Shaped by Things to Come
by Thoughtful Constellations
Summary: Emma Carroll and Steve Rogers have a life together. Steve works missions as Captain America. Emma heals wounded, sick agents as a nurse. When Steve is assigned a new mission and learns the dangerous truth behind the deaths of Emma's parents, both he and Emma must face the new dangers that threaten their every day lives (Sequel to Healing Touch.)
1. Saturdays

**Hello! This is the sequel to my previous Steve Rogers/OC story, _Healing Touch_. If you haven't already read it but want to hop on this train, I would highly suggest giving it a read!**

**This story takes place in between _The Avengers_ and _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_. I would say it's probably about three or four months before _The Winter Soldier._**

**Well, here we go! The first chapter. Let me know your thoughts =)**

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter 1

When Emma Carroll woke up, she was surprised to find herself nice and snuggly warm. She was used to waking up on Saturdays feeling comfortably warm, but she was almost too warm, and that meant something she wasn't used to. Shifting slightly, she felt Steve's forehead tucked lightly against the back of her neck the way he always positioned himself whenever he curled around her when he slept.

"Steve?" Her voice was raspy with sleep, and she straightened her legs, stretching them out. Instantly, Steve moved his head against her neck.

"Mmm?" He didn't sound terribly sleepy, but he didn't sound fully awake, either, so she knew he couldn't have been awake for very long.

"What time is it?" Emma asked. She snuggled in closer to Steve and pulled his arm tighter over her. She didn't have to look at him to feel him smiling against her back.

"Ten, I think," he mumbled.

"Why are you still in bed? You're usually up by now." Emma laced her fingers through his, placing her hand on top of his. One of the things she loved most about him was his hands. They were large and strong and calloused from years of use. She never felt quite as safe as she did when he touched her.

"Lazy day."

She couldn't help smiling broadly at his response. When she had first met Captain Steve Rogers, he'd been a shattered mess behind blue eyes soaked in depression and nostalgia for another century. She never could've imagined him saying that he was taking a lazy day. But now, he was a completely different man, and she still loved every inch of him with all his complex layers of solemn professionalism and lazy days in between.

"Captain America takes lazy days?" She rolled onto her back, careful not to knock into him, and turned to look at him. His eyes were closed, but his face was relaxed. His blonde hair was adorably mussed up, and she felt her heart melt all over again as she took in the sight of sleepy Steve.

"Mmhmmm," he replied. "I'm an old man. I need my rest."

Emma laughed and lightly punched his bicep. "You're making old man jokes, too?"

"Sometimes they're funny." He opened his eyes and grinned at her then. Emma loved playful, lighthearted Steve, and she couldn't help grinning back at him. Reaching forward, he gently kissed her on the forehead and then rolled out of bed towards the bathroom. Another thing that Emma appreciated about her old-fashioned, super considerate Super Soldier: he didn't want to kiss her without having brushed his teeth first. That was definitely a nice change from all the men she'd dated in the past who had never seen anything wrong with wanting to make out with morning breath.

Stretching out her muscles, she luxuriated in the feeling of loosening her muscles up and getting the blood flow back in them. Saturday mornings were her favorite. She loved her job, and she was damn good at what she did, but she loved Saturday mornings because she got to sleep in, and she got to spend quality time with Steve. It wasn't even that they didn't get to spend time together during the week because they did—but they could do literally anything they wanted on their weekends together.

Usually, Steve woke up at 5:00 A.M., even on Saturdays, and by the time she rolled out of bed, blonde hair a mess of sticking out and being matted down, he would've already gone on a run, picked up breakfast for her, come back, showered, gotten dressed, fixed his own breakfast, and started a pot of coffee. He wasn't just a Super Soldier—he was just kind of a Super Human all around. As Emma rolled herself into a seated position, she wondered if Tony ever felt that way about Grace. Steve and Grace could easily run 20 miles in 10 minutes or something ridiculous like that, she knew.

Emma pushed herself up so that she was standing, and she meandered into the bathroom to find Steve nearly finished with brushing his teeth. Giving him a good, solid onceover as she always did in the mornings, she concluded for the millionth time that it wasn't fair how he could look so fucking good when he'd just woken up. Yep. He was a Super Human.

Steve spat into the sink and rinsed his mouth out as Emma stuck her toothbrush in hers and started brushing. He glanced up at her and wiped his hands on the towel they kept beside the sink.

"What do you say we do some sightseeing?" he asked. Emma spat into the sink and paused in her brushing.

"Sightseeing?" she repeated.

"Yes. It's about time we really got to know D.C. We're almost completely unpacked. I think it'd be fun to make a day of it." He turned around and leaned his back against the sink as Emma started brushing again.

"Smithsonian?" Emma asked hopefully with her toothbrush in her mouth. Steve paused, and she could practically see the excuses running through his mind. It'd been three weeks since the brand new exhibit featuring him and his career had opened at the Air & Space Museum, and she'd been wanting to go. Steve, however, had been digging in his heels about going.

"I can see through you, you know," Steve said, smiling softly. Emma spat into the sink and then rinsed both her toothbrush and then her mouth before looking up at him.

"So why don't you want to go?" she asked. "Sweetheart, you have your own Smithsonian exhibit. Do you know how amazing that is?"

"I can't imagine it'd be all that interesting." Steve shrugged and looked away from her. Refusing to let him hide away from her, Emma moved in front of him and wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him. He peered down at her through his loose blond bangs that usually were so well-styled that it was always a treat for her to see them naturally hanging in his eyes this way.

"There is nothing more interesting to me than you, Steven." She saw the way his face softened at the use of his full name. Ever since New York, she'd taken to calling him that whenever he seemed to lose focus on the real world. It'd just been a brief period after the Battle of New York that he didn't seem to be fully there sometimes, but the habit had stuck, and she'd noticed how it seemed to have an effect on him.

"I'll go make some coffee." He put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the top of her head. She audibly sighed, knowing that she'd lost the fight to go to the Smithsonian, but she wouldn't push him. She never pushed him. "Hey. I love you."

"I love you, too. Almost as much as coffee." She grinned and kissed him fully on the mouth before walking back into the bedroom to get clothes for the day to go put in the bathroom for after she showered. She heard Steve chuckle and walk into the kitchen to get the pot going.

SHIELD had deemed it necessary for the couple to pack up their life in New York and relocate it Washington D.C., something that Emma hadn't been terribly opposed to. New York was full of reminders of the Chitauri, and sometimes she'd gotten flashes of them here and there when she'd been doing every day things. Honestly, Emma would've expected Steve to be the one traumatized from the whole experience. She'd taken him back to their apartment, prepared to deal with a shell-shocked man who struggled with nightmares and anxiety attacks, but Steve hadn't had a single nightmare about the incident.

When Steve had nightmares—though even those was very rare—they were about the 1940s. She could tell he didn't think she knew about them, but she did. He knew that she knew about his nightmares because she would wake up with him and touch him and whisper softly to him until he was 100% with her, but she could just tell he didn't think she had any clue that he dreamed about his old life. But she did know. She could tell from the way he seemed to come back to her as if he'd just come back from another country, another world, another era. He didn't need to tell her because she knew. She just knew.

Emma quickly showered and half-dried her hair. She was so used to throwing it back in a ponytail that she couldn't care less about what happened to it, but she always took her time with her make up. By the time she was done, she walked into the kitchen and saw Steve sitting at the table with the radio turned up. Instantly, she recognized the sounds of Mumford & Sons. Steve had taken a great liking to the English band, for whatever reason. Not that Emma minded because she was personally a big fan of them, too, but she never would've thought Steve would like them so much.

"Good choice of music," she said as she crossed into the room and walked towards the coffee pot. Natasha, more commonly known as Black Widow, had been bugging Steve to get a Keurig, but he and Emma were both old-fashioned when it came to coffee and preferred to make it themselves. Emma didn't think that a Keurig could make a pot quite the same way her man did.

"Em, what do you think about Thai food?" Steve asked suddenly. She glanced over her shoulder at him and found him staring at something in the newspaper. She finished pouring herself a mug of coffee and walked over to look at what he was so closely examining. There was an ad for Thai food on the bottom corner of the page, and it'd caught Steve's interest.

"It's ok, I guess. I'm more of a Chinese person, myself," she said, sitting down on the stool across from him at the bar in their apartment.

"What is it?" Steve asked with a frown.

"It's like Chinese. Food from Thailand. Like I said, I think Chinese is better, but Thai's really popular these days." She picked up the two peppermint mocha creamers and two Splenda packets that Steve had already had for her out on the table, and she mixed them into her coffee. Glancing over at her superhero boyfriend, she noticed how intensely he was studying the ad. "Do you want to try it? We can try it if you want."

"Really?" Steve looked up hopefully, and she found that she was unable to keep from smiling. He had a pretty good grasp on the world around him, but sometimes he found something that confused him or didn't quite make sense, and it was adorable the way he wanted to learn about it.

"Mmhmmm. We can have a nice lunch out today. Pay day was last week, so we're rolling in dough," she said with a cheeky grin. She tucked a piece of half-wet blonde hair behind her ear and took a small sip of her still steaming coffee, her sea-colored eyes peering at him over her mug.

"What movie are we watching tonight?" he asked.

"What are you in the mood for? We can do a romantic comedy, a drama, action, horror…you pick." Emma beamed at him. Saturday nights they watched a new movie that was technically considered one of the "classics" to get him up to date on things. So far, some of Steve's favorites had been _Forrest Gump_, _Jaws_, and surprisingly, _Saving Private Ryan_. She hadn't been too eager to show him _Saving Private Ryan _because she'd been afraid that it might bring back any bad memories for him, but he'd been more interested in pointing out the historical inaccuracies than anything.

"Romantic comedy," Steve said with a firm nod. She lifted her light brown eyebrows at him in surprise, and she took another sip of coffee.

"Really?" she asked. He nodded.

"Yeah. Those are pretty straightforward," he replied simply. "I'm going to go grab a shower, and then we can head out to lunch, if you want."

"Sounds good to me." Emma watched her Super Soldier stand up and walk to the bedroom to get ready for the day. As crazy as their lives were on an every day basis, it was unspeakably nice to have relaxing weekends like this. She lived for her weekends when she didn't have to work. Granted, she loved her job. She really did. She'd wanted to be a nurse for as long as she could remember, but she needed these days when the only things that really seemed to exist were just she and Steve.

* * *

"'Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy.'"

"Andrews Sisters. Come on, that's an easy one! Give me a hard one."

"I'm going easy on you. Alright. 'Dolores.'"

"Oh, I know this one…"

"So who sings it?"

"I swear I know it…"

"Do you?"

"Sinatra?"

"Crosby."

"Damn, I was close!" Emma sighed in defeat as Steve grinned brightly at her from across the table in the Thai restaurant that they'd randomly selected to try for lunch. She shook her head and sighed again. "That was a hard one. The men just sound the same to me."

Steve scoffed and shook his head adamantly. "No, they don't. Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra have completely different voices."

"That's what I say about Britney Spears and Kesha, and you think they sound alike," Emma pointed out. Steve looked as though he were about to retort, but he just smiled and shook his head again. Emma went to say something else when someone tentatively approached them.

"Excuse me, are you Steve Rogers?" A woman in her 40s stood somewhat timidly at the corner of their table, looking shy and embarrassed. Calmly, Steve nodded, and he regarded the woman with his blue eyes. He was used to people coming up and asking him if he were Captain America, but he still never seemed to know how to handle the question. The only time he really liked to show off what he could do was whenever he went running.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

"Captain Rogers, I don't mean to bother you, but I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for our country. Back in World War II and then during the Battle of New York and everything you do now," the woman said sincerely. Steve smiled warmly at the woman, and he shook his head at her.

"No, thank you, ma'am," Steve politely returned.

"I just…I wanted to thank you. I saw your exhibit at the Air & Space museum about a week ago and loved it. It's truly an honor to meet you," the woman continued. Emma pointedly glanced at Steve with her large grey-green eyes, and she knew he could feel her staring at him by the way he purposely didn't look at her.

"It's an honor to meet you," Steve said back.

"I'm sorry to bother you. Thank you again. I hope you two have a nice day." The woman smiled one last time and then turned and walked briskly away. Emma rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward towards Steve.

"She thought your exhibit was lovely," she said in a teasing tone. Steve met her eyes, and he gave her a small smile.

"Maybe next week," he said vaguely, and again, Emma didn't push.

"When do you think your next mission will be? It's been about a month since they called you in for something. It should be about time that they have something for you to do," she said, completely changing the subject.

"It should be soon," Steve agreed. "It's hard to tell. I think Nick wants Grace and me to take the next mission. He implied something like that when I went to my last debriefing, but you know how he is. Says one thing, does the opposite."

"That's true," she replied. "It's been nice having you home for once, though. You and Natasha are always off on some mission, it seems."

"Trust me. I enjoy being home. SHIELD doesn't understand the concept of a break." Steve lifted his glass and took a sip of it, his face thoughtful and drawn together as he swallowed.

"You ok?" Emma asked, concern starting to fill her grey-green eyes. He nodded.

"Does it ever bother you that I'm gone a lot? Or that I can't tell you what I'm doing or where I'm going?" he asked suddenly. Emma blinked in surprise, and she let out a breath between her lips.

"No. I mean, yes, it does, but at the same time, no. You're doing what you have to do. Just like I have to be a nurse," she said. "Obviously, if I had my choice, I'd prefer you to not be gone for like, three weeks at a time, but…you always come back alive. Why?"

"This isn't exactly a normal life we have," Steve said.

"It's normal for us," Emma replied with a shrug. Her phone started ringing at that moment, and she glanced down at it then frowned. "It's my aunt. Sorry, I haven't talked to her since last week. Hold on. Hello?"

"Emma? It's me," Lacey Carroll said into the phone.

"Hi, Aunt Lacey. Is everything ok?" Emma asked, still frowning. Steve was frowning at her in concerned confusion, and she shrugged silently at him to let him know that she still didn't know what the problem was.

"Oh, yeah, everything's fine. I just wanted to call and see what was up. It's been a while since we talked." As Lacey spoke, Emma could picture the aunt who'd raised her. Lacey had been her father's sister, a petite dark-haired woman with the same sea-colored eyes that both her brother and her niece had received as well.

"Everything's fine. I'm fine. Steve's fine. We're out getting Thai, actually. It's the first time Steve's had Thai food, so we're marking that off the list," Emma replied.

"When do we get to meet that young man? You've been with him for some time, and we still haven't gotten an official introduction," Lacey said. Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat—she'd been dancing around this question for years, and it never seemed to get any easier.

"Whenever we're both free. Our schedules are a little difficult to get around. SHIELD doesn't understand the concept of a break." She looked at Steve and grinned as she repeated the words he'd just said moments before.

"You've been saying that for years, Em. It'd be nice to get to meet this mystery man of yours. I have to follow the news and the tabloids to get any information on the two of you," Lacey said, her tone half-teasing.

"I know, I know. First chance we get, we'll be up there, ok? Hey, the food's here, so I'm going to go. I'll call you when I can. Love you, Aunt Lacey."

"Love you, too, Em. Seriously. Don't forget you have an aunt and uncle and three cousins who love you and miss you and would like to see you sometime."

"I know. Give everyone my love. I'll talk to you soon. Bye." Before Lacey could say anything to keep the blonde nurse on the phone any longer, Emma hung up. Steve looked at her curiously, trying to act like he wasn't dying to know what had just happened on the phone between her and her aunt.

"Everything ok?" he asked casually.

"Yeah. She just wanted to give me a hard time about not taking you home with me just yet," she said with a smile.

"So when do I get to meet them?" Steve asked. It didn't escape his notice that Emma's eyes seemed to grow more distant, the way they always did whenever he referenced her family. She didn't say much about how she'd grown up, but when she did speak of the aunt and uncle who'd taken her in after her parents had died, she was very tight-lipped, and she never said anything more than that they treated her well. And they had. Emma wasn't lying about that. She loved her family dearly because they'd taken her in as one of their own, and they'd given her all the love and care that she ever could've asked for. Sometimes home was just a bit tricky.

"Someday," Emma replied. "They can be a lot to handle every now and then, but they're great."

Thankfully, the food came and provided a distraction so that Emma didn't have to talk about why she didn't like to go home. Steve knew the look of someone who avoided home because of painful memories because he could recognize that look in himself. Emma had lost her parents in a plane crash when she was 11 years old, and she'd moved in with her aunt and uncle the next town over. He felt that he knew her well enough to know that being home only reminded her of parents she would never get to know.

Thinking about Emma's pain surrounding her parents, he thought of his own. His father had died when he was young, too young to remember the man, but he remembered his mother. He remembered his mother as clearly as he remembered every other moment of his previous life. Whenever Emma would ask him to tell her stories about what his life had been like growing up, he almost always had a story that related back to his mother.

Steve stirred the noodles of Pad Thai dish, suddenly wondering if he'd ventured too far out of his comfort zone in ordering the strange, foreign food. He glanced up at Emma to see how she reacted to her dish and saw that she was, of course, acting quite calmly around it. He'd had Chinese food with her plenty of times in the past, but she hadn't been kidding when she'd said that Thai and Chinese were two different types of food. He watched her tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. Her hair had grown out significantly since he'd met her several years ago. He remembered that it'd been in that awkward stage of needing to be pinned back, but now, she could easily put it into a medium-length braid.

Emma. She'd saved him more times than he could count. When he'd first woken up in the SHIELD hospital in New York, he'd been sad, confused, and sullen. He hadn't found much interest in anything surrounding his hospital room until she'd walked in the door and smiled at him. Even now, she still had that same calming effect on him. Just by being around her, he felt as though he could see, think, and breathe more clearly.

Her never-ending patience was a godsend, too. She never once got frustrated with him when teaching him how to use technology. She would always calmly explain it and help him, answering any questions he had along the way. And she didn't even try to teach him about modern life without expecting him to teach her about his life. She asked him all the time about his past because she genuinely wanted to know more about him. Whenever she introduced him to a popular new artist, she expected him to introduce her to an artist from the 1940s. She wanted to be as much a part of his life as she could, and he couldn't love her more for it. He couldn't imagine where he'd be in life without her. Funny how he couldn't picture his life without her, even though he'd previously lived 25 years without knowing she would someday exist.

Finally, he gave in and took a bite of the strange food. Emma looked up from her rice and stared curiously at him.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"Actually, it's not that bad," Steve replied, his voice as colored with surprise as his clear, blue eyes were. "It tastes better than it looks."

"Personally, I think Chinese is better, but hey, the fried rice is pretty good." Emma examined the bite she had on her fork and then put it in her mouth. "Well, it's good, but I wouldn't dig Grandma up."

Steve laughed and shook his head, his serious thoughts melting away. "One thing I'll never get used to is all these crazy sayings you guys have now."

"I don't know, man," Emma lightly teased. "Saying a girl has nice gams instead of saying she has nice legs is pretty crazy."

"Now _that_ makes sense to me," Steve replied. Emma threw her head back and laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.

"I love you, you know that?" she said, unable to hide her smile as she calmed her laughter and gazed at the blonde man across from her.

"Yes," he said quietly, gazing back at her. "I do."

And he thanked God for the millionth time since he'd been resurrected in that hospital that Emma Carroll had been the one to walk through the door of his room.


	2. Calling

**Shoutouts to stuffoflegends and MsRose91 for reviewing!**

**Alrighty, guys, we're up and rolling! In this chapter, we've got some fluff, a little bit of steam (just as a warning, this story will most likely change to an M rating in the future. Look at my other stories-I think only one of them isn't actually rated M...oops...), a hint of action, and some internal feelings. Next chapter there will be more action, so hang in there!**

**Please, please, please let me know your thoughts, opinions, suggestions, etc.!**

**Enjoy! =)**

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Chapter 2

Halfway through _He's Just not That into You_, Steve was mildly distracted. Not to say that he wasn't enjoying the movie because honestly, television in general fascinated him, and he was more than happy to watch whatever he could, but he was focusing more on the blonde-haired woman leaning against him on the couch. Emma's hair was down, something that she only did on the weekends since she had to keep it up in a ponytail while she was working at the hospital, and she was dressed in just cotton shorts and a t-shirt. She looked completely relaxed, and that was when she most herself.

Steve had been raised in the 1930s, a very different time period. Back in the '30s, pre-marital sex had been around, of course, but it hadn't been as widely accepted as it was now in this new era. So when he and Emma had started having sex, he'd experienced a bit of a moral conflict within himself. He'd been taught that pre-marital sex was wrong, but now it was ok, and he'd had a little bit of a struggle in getting past his "old-fashioned" views. But truth be told, Steve had gotten over that struggle relatively quickly. He loved Emma, and he loved sex with her, and he no longer had any kind of moral conflict when he felt his heart rate quicken and his blood grow hot beneath his skin.

And so as he felt how warm Emma was against him, he couldn't deny that he was definitely feeling his heart rate quicken a little bit. She had her back against his chest, and she was nestled in between his stretched out legs and the back of the wide couch. She'd pulled her hair around her shoulder so that one side of her neck was exposed. Acting on impulse, he tilted his head down and lightly kissed the bare skin of her neck. She stilled beneath his lips.

"Oh, this isn't fair," she said out loud. He chuckled softly, his lips still pressed to her skin, and she shivered at the vibrations. "This is an order to stop."

"An order?" he mumbled. Her hand moved to rest on top of his thigh, and he forced himself to breathe slowly.

"An order," she repeated. She turned to look at him, her eyes a darker grey as her gaze took on a heated tone to it. They stared at each other for just a few seconds, though it felt like a century. Slowly, she shifted so that she faced him, and she leaned forward and took his face in her hands, her lips meeting his. His hands slid around her waist and pressed into the small of her back. She stopped kissing him, and for a brief moment, confusion passed over Steve's face, but her mouth moved down his jawline and to his neck. His muscles tensed beneath her, and she smiled at the feel of her effect on him.

Suddenly, there was a sound from the bedroom. Emma froze and looked up, her eyes glazed over with want for him and her lips swollen from kissing. She looked down at him and frowned. When she looked at him, though, Steve Rogers wasn't in the room with her anymore—Captain Steve Rogers had taken his place. It was always a sight to see him become Captain America, and the look on his face at that moment was pure Captain America.

"You heard that," she whispered. His blue eyes fixed in the direction of the bedroom, and he nodded. Emma could hear her own heart thumping in her ears—no one had ever tried to break into their apartment before. Not even in New York.

"Stay here," Steve said in a low voice. Without needing to be told, Emma quickly climbed off of him and tucked her legs underneath her as Steve got up. Fear tightly gripped herchest as she watched Steve carefully move to the bedroom. Even in the midst of the moment, she couldn't help but find it somewhat funny that she could sit through a Chitauri invasion without batting an eyelash, but as soon as someone broke into their apartment, she could hardly breathe.

A loud thump came from the direction of the bedroom, and she couldn't sit still any longer. Leaping up, she ran to the end of the hall and into the room she shared with Steve. There in the dark were two figures wrestling around and punching each other. Adrenaline coursed through Emma's veins, and she switched the light on. She never could've been prepared for what she saw.

Steve Rogers and Agent Grace Marks were wrestling on the floor like a bunch of super-ninja five year olds. Emma stopped dead in her tracks, unsure of what to do. Of all the people she would've expected to see breaking into their apartment, Grace Marks was the very last person. With the light on, Steve paused, and then he pushed himself away from the dark-haired agent. Her light amber irises had darkened into their familiar black, signifying that she was in survival mode.

"Grace!" he shouted. Grace stepped back and smiled. As she caught her breath, her irises began to lighten.

"It's about time you figured it out," she said happily. Her gaze redirected over to Emma. "Hey, Emma."

"Uh, hi," Emma slowly replied, her sea-colored eyes huge in her skull as she looked back and forth between the Super Soldier and the Super Agent. Her confusion had skyrocketed out the roof, and she wasn't sure what to make of this entire situation at all. Just moments ago, she'd been curled up on the couch watching a rom-com with Steve, and now she was staring at one of her good friends and her boyfriend as they slowed their breathing after having fought each other.

"I should've known it was you," Steve said, his chest rising and falling with each breath. "We've sparred so much it should've been obvious.

Grace smirked. "I know, right? I'm almost disappointed, Steve."

Emma couldn't find the words to speak as she continued staring at the two of them. Steve was so cavalier about this, and Grace was acting as though she broke into her friends' apartments every day. She cleared her throat and tucked her hair back behind her ear.

"What's going on?" she asked. Instantly, Grace's face sobered up. Her angular features showed no more signs of playing around anymore, and Emma knew that something was up—Grace was there to collect Steve for a mission.

"There's trouble a-foot," the amber-eyed agent said seriously. Steve's dropped, too, and he glanced at Emma.

"Now?" he asked. Grace nodded once.

"Yes," she replied.

"How long do you expect us to be gone?" he asked. Grace paused and tilted her head to the side as she thought. Her French braid swung to the side just past her shoulders. Ever since the incident with the Mandarin, she'd kept her hair shorter than she had before. Grace wasn't someone that Emma wholeheartedly trusted—the woman had more secrets than anyone Emma had ever known, and she probably knew 3,000 ways to kill a person just with her bare hands. As someone who had come from a relatively happy home, Emma would never be able to understand the complexities that came with Grace Marks, and she was aware of that. But still, when Grace wasn't being an agent, she was a good friend to Emma, and she was an even better friend to Steve.

"The weather should last," Grace vaguely answered. Steve grimly nodded, and he turned to the closet to start throwing something together. Emma was used to them speaking in code whenever they were discussing classified SHIELD stuff. She wasn't sure what "the weather should last" was supposed to mean, but she didn't care. As long as Steve stayed safe, and he came back in one piece, she was ok.

"Why didn't you just come to the front door?" Steve asked, pulling shirts and pants down out of the closet. Grace nonchalantly shrugged and crossed to the dresser, picking up one of the magazines on it.

"I thought this would be more fun," she replied. "Front doors are so mainstream."

"You sound like Tony," Steve answered. Grace laughed and held up the magazine in her hand for Emma to see the cover.

"_Hawkeye and Black Widow: The Every Day Lives of the Dynamic Duo_," she read out loud. On the cover of the magazine was a picture of Clint and Natasha that'd been snapped about eight months ago. For the most part, the two agents were pretty good at keeping their heads low, but every now and then—particularly around D.C.—they got photographed together. Emma grinned back and shrugged.

"So I like reading the tabloids when they have to do with people I know," she said. "Call it a guilty pleasure."

Grace scoffed. "Don't feel guilty. Tony openly buys these and reads them like his life depends on it."

"I wonder why," Steve drily remarked from inside the closet. Grace dramatically rolled her eyes and shot him a bored look.

"Funny, Steve," she deadpanned. "Come on, you have to admit it's kind of fun seeing the crazy shit people come up with about our lives."

"Not quite the word I'd use," he answered. She lifted her eyebrows at him disbelievingly and then glanced over at Emma.

"What do you think?" she asked. "Do you enjoy reading what the media thinks you do in your spare time?"

"According to _Life & Style_, I'm expecting twins, and Steve and I have been married in secret for the past year," Emma answered with a laugh. "I admit it's kind of fun, and I kind of really enjoy reading them."

"You were interviewed for Steve's exhibit at the Air & Space Museum, right?" Grace asked, setting the magazine down. Emma didn't need to look at him to hear him internally groaning, and she suppressed her smile.

"Yeah, I was," she said. "There's a very small section dedicated to me, and if I remember correctly, I'm even in one of the documentaries talking about what a fine, upstanding man he is. And before you ask, no, we haven't gone and seen the exhibit yet, even though I've been bugging Steve for the past few weeks to go."

"God, the Air & Space museum did a thing on Tony about a year back, and you couldn't get him out of the fucking place," Grace sighed. She glanced sharply over at Steve. "Don't even say anything."

"What? I wasn't going to!" Steve protested innocently.

"Please, I could sense you about to speak before you even realized you had something to say," Grace replied. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and looked at it. "Are you almost ready? We need to be leaving. Technically, we should've left 10 minutes ago."

"I'm just about ready." With a final sweep of his duffel bag, Steve picked it up and hauled it over his shoulder with ease. Emma eyed his bag and guessed that had she tried to pick it up, she would've struggled a fair amount with it. She wasn't exactly sure what all he kept in his duffel bag, but he only used it for his missions, and she could tell that it weighed far more than it looked. He never seemed to realize his own strength. Looking over at Grace, he glanced back at Emma. "I'll meet you outside."

"Be quick about it," Grace shortly replied. She was 100% in SHIELD agent mode, efficient and clipped as the mission neared closer and closer to them. Barely glancing at Emma, she nodded, and she walked out through the bedroom to exit the front door, calling over her shoulder as she walked. "I'm out front. You won't be able to miss me."

And with that, it was just Steve and Emma to themselves again. Emma was more than used to telling him goodbye when he needed to go on a mission, but she never particularly enjoyed it. She walked with him to the door, and she stood up on her tiptoes to pull him down for a kiss. His lips met hers, and one hand carefully held her face as he kissed her. He might not have recognized his own strength with every day things such as easily lifting duffel bags that should've made him really use his muscles, but when it came to Emma, he was beyond gentle. It was the only time he seemed to consciously slow down and make an effort not to hurt her.

He lightly brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, and she remembered how he told her one time that right after he'd first gone through his transformation, he'd broken things left and right because he hadn't been aware of how strong he was. Feeling his careful hands on her, she never would've believed that about him. Finally, she pulled back and placed her hand on top of his, and she smiled up at him.

"Go get 'em, Captain," she said playfully. Steve's light blue eyes flicked down to her lips again and then back up to her eyes. His desire to stay with her was plainly written across his features. He remembered back to when he'd been Captain America, when he hadn't had anyone to worry about whenever he'd left to go kick ass and take names. Sure, there'd been Peggy. There'd always been Peggy. But now, Steve saw how different things were. Peggy and Emma could hardly be compared because they'd both been wanted by different Steves. Peggy was a reminder of his past, and Emma was his future—simple as that.

He found that he thought about Peggy less and less. Each day that passed, he forgot one little feature about her. He would always have fond memories of the woman who had first made him feel as though he were important, as though he were worth being noticed. But when he was with Emma, sometimes he got breathless when he looked at her and realized for the millionth time how lucky he was. It was remarkable to him that had things happened the way he'd always thought back during the war, he never would've found Emma.

"I'll be back soon. Won't even know I'm gone," he replied.

"Exactly." Emma tried to keep her smile light, but she could sense that she was failing at it. If Grace had been the one to show up on a Saturday night with orders for a mission that required Steve to leave as soon as possible, the mission couldn't be good. Steve was a high-level agent, and he was called in for difficult jobs, but Grace was the agent SHIELD used for the most dangerous jobs. She forced her smile, and she ran her hands down the front of his body.

"When you get back, we'll have to pick up where we left off," she said, her voice tight. Steve smoothed his hand over her face again, always careful with her, always mindful of how he handled her.

"I love you," he said, and he wrapped her into a hug. No matter how many times he said it, Emma would never get tired of hearing it. She hugged him back, and even though he couldn't see her face, she still kept that damn smile on her face. After three years of being in a relationship with a superhero, she was really fucking used to letting him go like this, but it never got any easier. No matter how much she trusted that he would come back to her alive, she could never get rid of the thought that even though he was almost indestructible, there was still a part of him that was undeniably human. A part of him that could still die.

"I love you, too," she replied. Reluctantly, he pulled back and looked at her hard. He leaned forward and quickly kissed her one last time.

"Bye, Em." He squeezed her hand, and before he could make the decision to tell Grace to screw off, he exited his apartment. He swore he could hear Emma sigh as he walked down to the car.

* * *

"What's the job?" Steve asked as soon as he ducked into the recognizable car. Grace glanced into her side mirrors and her rearview to make sure that she was clear, and then she pulled out into traffic. He glanced over at her and saw her dead calm face. He was accustomed to her stony deadpan by now and didn't think twice about her lack of physical emotional expression.

"Jackson Marsden. CEO of Marsden Aircraft Company. Has 23 confirmed SHIELD agent assassinations via five plane crashes over the past 15 years. Somehow planted a bomb, plane blew up, agents dead. He's probably been the cause of more, but we haven't been able to officially prove it," she answered. Steve scanned over the front seat of the car and then looked into the backseat.

"Where are the files? I need to read up on the details," he said.

"I've got them safe. You can look over them once we reach Chicago," she intoned.

"Chicago?" Steve repeated.

"Yeah. Confirmed sighting at his headquarters. He's been on SHIELD's list for a number of years, so it's safe to say that he knows he's a wanted man." She grinned emotionlessly.

"Why'd he bomb the planes?" Steve asked.

"Why do bad people do bad things? It's a never ending cycle, dude," Grace replied drily.

"So no motive?" Steve confirmed. Nodding once, Grace pressed her lips into a thin line and concentrated on the road in front of her, her gold eyes sweeping the lanes in front of them. Steve had to admit that as strange as Grace could be about some things, she was the best damn driver he'd ever ridden with. He'd been in enough high-speed car chases with her to experience just how good she actually was. Those survival instincts of hers came in handy much more than he ever would've thought—Grace driving was an art in and of itself.

"No motive," she confirmed. "And that's why this is a capture mission instead of a kill mission."

"Where are the files? I can just read up on it now, so you don't have to waste time telling me what the documents say," Steve pressed.

"It's not safe to look at them out here in public," Grace replied. Steve frowned, his blue eyes filling with confusion.

"Grace, we're in a car," he said.

"This guy isn't someone you want to fuck around with," she said evenly but firmly. "You never know what's safe and what isn't. If he has any idea that we're coming after him, he's going to flee, and we won't be able to find him. Have you ever had to go to Fury and tell him that you failed a mission?"

"No," Steve slowly answered, his eyebrows drawing together even closer as his frown deepened.

"Yeah, neither have I," Grace said. "And I don't plan on starting anytime soon. Do you know how long it took me to become a Level Nine agent?"

"Ten years?" Steve guessed.

"Pretty damn close," she said back. "I mean, granted, I climbed the ladder much quicker than everyone else because I'm fucking great like that but—"

"You have _definitely_ been with Stark for too long," Steve interrupted with a chuckled. For the first time since he'd gotten in the car, Grace allowed a genuine smile. She was so stern-faced and so emotionless all the time that it was always a treat for a real, sincere Grace Marks smile to show itself.

"I guess so," she said and half-shrugged. "Speaking of Stark, so far so good with this whole Extremis thing."

"Yeah? That's great," Steve replied happily.

"The best part of it—and I can't believe I'm saying that—is the fact that I don't take like, five minutes to come back down from survival mode. It's crazy." Her voice sounded as though she wasn't quite in the car with him, and Steve didn't need to ask to know that she was off in another time and place. That was one reason why he and Grace got along so well and had such a good bond—they had both had a firsthand experience with an enhancing Serum, and they both had pasts that they couldn't help but remember, though they wished that they could leave it behind.

"How are you and Em liking D.C.?" Grace asked, changing the subject. Steve suppressed his smirk. They could go from talking business to personal subjects in three seconds flat. Aside from Emma, Steve could easily admit that Grace was his best friend. Sure, technology existed that allowed them to text and keep in touch, but as he sat there in the car with his partner, prepping for a mission that held more importance than he knew at that moment, he realized how much he'd missed his best friend.

* * *

"Emma, Agent Simmers needs his bandages changed." Robin Farrell, friend and fellow nurse, dropped the chart off in Emma's hands. Emma scanned over it and winced.

"Is his infection still not getting better?" she asked.

"Nope. It's only been getting worse, believe it or not." Robin grimly glanced over at the blonde nurse and pressed her lips together in sympathy. "Sorry you got assigned him today."

"No, no, I don't mind. He's got a nice sense of humor. I just feel awful that he's not getting any better," Emma murmured, her grey-green eyes sweeping over the chart and taking in the declining stats of the suffering agent who struggled to recover just a few doors down the hall.

"He's hitting on you, you know," Robin pointed out. Emma smirked and rolled her eyes.

"Why do you always think the agents are hitting on the nurses?" she asked. Robin lifted her dark brown eyebrows and returned her friend's smirk, tossing her hair back out of habit. Even though her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, when her hair was down, her bangs were long and falling in her eyes, and she'd gotten into the habit of flicking her bangs out of her eyes.

"Em, the stereotypes are there for a reason," she replied in a knowing tone. "These guys are often sex-deprived and overworked, so seeing pretty faces is a welcome relief for them."

"Well, true," Emma conceded. "But most of them are just tired and sick and want to get better so they can get out of here. Agents are so antsy."

"I am perfectly happy to stay in the hospital and fight the evil in here and let them be the ones to take down the evil out there. If they want to be antsy to get back out in the field, God love 'em," Robin held her hands up in surrender. "Give me germs and blood any day."

"You're so gross," Emma said and walked to the doorway, laughing over her shoulder. Pausing in the doorframe, she placed her hand on the stainless steel frame and turned to face Robin. "Hey, are we still on for lunch?"

"Yeah, I should be getting off in the next 30 minutes, same as you. Do you want to go to Romano's? I've been craving their breadsticks," Robin replied. Emma widened her eyes and nodded emphatically.

"Oh, yeah! I wasn't even thinking about Romano's, but now that you mentioned it, I'm definitely in the mood for some breadsticks. Ok. I'm going to go take care of Simmers and do my rounds one more time before lunch," she answered. Robin gave her a thumbs up, and Emma started down the hall with Agent Simmers's file in her hand.

Agent Robert Simmers had been hacked across the abdomen with an axe about two weeks back while out on a mission. For a while, the doctors hadn't been sure that he would make it out alive at all, but Robert Simmers had proven himself to be a fighter, and he'd finally stabilized after such severe damage. However, as soon as things had started to look up for him again, he'd fallen victim to a nasty infection that was threatening his life again. Emma had to give it to him—even though he looked and felt like shit, he had a quick sense of humor.

She walked into his room and smiled brightly at the agent. He was a good 10 years older than her, but he looked even older in his weary, broken state. He was barely awake, clearly struggling to stay conscious against the raging war of infection inside him. Weakly, he returned her smile and watched her cross farther into the room.

"Bandage time?" he asked. Emma nodded.

"Yep. Got to keep you clean so hopefully this infection will go away. How you feeling today, Agent?" she asked.

"Shitty," he replied, but he still smiled. "But those drugs they give me are so strong that I don't give a shit that I feel like shit."

"That's the kind of attitude we like around here," Emma replied. She carefully peeled back the blankets and started to fold down his hospital gown. One thing that she had to admit was that all the agents had the best damn bodies. SHIELD only accepted people who were in tiptop shape, and she would've been lying if she said that the well-toned muscles of these agents were a damper on her day.

"Nurse, have you ever been wounded? Like, _really_ wounded?" the agent asked. Emma briefly paused, her eyes glancing up towards his face, and she shook her head.

"No, Agent. I can't say that I have," she said.

"Wouldn't recommend it," Simmers answered. As Emma laid her hands on the tape keeping his bandages in place, she could feel him stiffen beneath her touch. She'd been a nurse for some number of years now, but watching people in pain never got any easier. Just like watching Steve haul that duffel bag over his shoulder and walk out the door never got any easier. Her mind went to Steve, the one topic she'd purposely been trying to avoid, as she began peeling the medical tape off. He'd been wounded before, but thankfully, he'd never had anything like this. And even when he _had_ been wounded, he'd healed much more quickly than the average person would have. If Steve had been the one to take the axe to the stomach, it would've taken him maybe a week to two weeks to fully recover. In that regard, he and Grace had that in common.

Emma had told herself that she wouldn't let herself worry about Steve because she of all people knew that he was a professional, knew that he knew what he was doing. But still, she sometimes felt like the stereotypical girlfriend who got left behind to worry while the man went off and saved the world. Not that she thought that she should've been out saving the world because she knew that if the world's fate fell in her hands, the world didn't stand a fucking chance.

Robin's words that she'd said just moments before came back to her in that second—germs and blood, Emma could take. She could even deal with vomit and shit being spilled all over her, but true villains? Hell no. She was more than happy to save the world by killing one germ at a time while Steve went out to save the world from being blown to bits by nutcases who thought they had been blessed by divine right to rule the entire Earth. Grinning to herself, she decided that yes, she would much rather deal with germs than nutcases. She was perfectly ok to leave those to Steve.

Steve. He would be ok. She knew he would be. He would be ok because he always was.


	3. Connections

**Shoutouts to stuffoflegends and MsRose91 for reviewing!**

**This chapter has a lot of Emma's background in it because I haven't really gone very much into her upbringing. You get to see what she does when Steve is gone, and we get to see what Steve is up to on his mission. Be prepared for some explosions and a giant fucking plot twist.**

**As always, please let me know your thoughts!**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 3

"What'd you do this weekend?" Robin took a sip of her water and gazed curiously at Emma, who was nursing her glass of iced tea. Emma paused, not sure of how to answer. She could very easily answer what she had done on Saturday. Saturday seemed like a whole other lifetime ago. She wondered if that sensation was anything like the one Steve got whenever he remembered his life from the past.

Yes, Saturday would be easy to retell. But Sunday was a different matter.

Sunday she'd slept in late and had spent most of the day in bed. She felt ridiculous to admit that that was what she'd done because after all, she was a 25 year old adult who was living with her boyfriend, and she healed people for a living. She felt that she should've been doing more adult-like things than just lying in bed, but that was, admittedly, what she'd done. On some level, she felt as though she couldn't admit that to Robin; as Steve Rogers's girlfriend, she knew she had the reputation as someone who was clean-cut, much like the Super Soldier himself. It didn't escape her notice that he had the reputation of always doing the right thing, always being respectful and kind and upstanding. And his reputation was her reputation. For the most part, Emma really was pretty clean-cut. She didn't have a dark, sketchy past, and one of the reasons that she was such a highly rated nurse was because she also managed to keep a smile on her face. But still, admitting that she'd spent a whole day in bed watching _Ghost Whisperer _and reading _Rules of Civility_ made her feel as though she would be breaking an image that SHIELD had already set up for her.

"Steve and I went out on Saturday and got some Thai food. He'd never had Thai before, so we thought we'd go out and make a day of it," she replied carefully. "What'd you do? Your sister came to visit, right?"

"Yeah, she did. She's 21 and still in college, so I was afraid she'd want to go out on the town, but she was cool with a weekend in. Basically, all we did was marathon some shows and catch up, which was nice." Robin took another sip of her water and out of habit, flicked her pulled-back bangs out of her face. "Did Steve like Thai food?"

"He likes Chinese better, but he didn't mind trying it just for something different." Absentmindedly, her mind going back to Steve, Emma smoothed her hair back, even though it was secured neatly in its typical ponytail.

"So what's it like having a superhero boyfriend?" Robin asked curiously, her expression mildly shy. "I'm sure you get that question a lot."

Emma grinned. "The answer never gets any easier. I mean…I don't know. On one hand, Steve isn't a superhero. He's just _Steve, _you know? But on the other hand, I have to put up with a lot of shit like constant missions, not knowing if he'll be ok, having to replace doorknobs when he accidentally twists them too hard. Yeah, I know. That's a real thing." She laughed at Robin's surprised face. "I don't know. The weirdest part is probably the attention more than anything. People come up to us when we're out, and I see myself in magazines a lot. That's kind of weird."

"I mean, I've dated some of the agents that have come through the hospital before but never anyone big name like Steve. Jesus, you live with a fucking Avenger," Robin remarked, not bothering to show that she was impressed. She'd been trying to hold off on bombarding Emma with personal questions since Emma had only been working at the D.C. hospital for about a month, and she was sure that the blonde nurse received these questions all the time, but damn, she was curious.

Originally, Robin hadn't been terribly excited over the arrival of the live-in girlfriend of Steve Rogers. When the orders had been announced that Emma Carroll was being transferred to the D.C. location, Robin hadn't gotten star struck over the news the way some of the other nurses had. But Robin had been assigned to show Emma around the hospital and to help train her, and there'd been something infectious about Emma's naturally sunny personality and easy disposition that Robin had instantly felt comfortable with. After three days, she'd let go of any previous prejudices she'd held against Emma, and they'd been friends ever since.

"Now _that's_ a bit crazy," Emma admitted, referring to the Avenger part of Robin's statement. "You know, everyone thinks that the whole team is this bunch of super serious, hyper-focused heroes, but honestly, when they're not working, they're...just people. I mean, Bruce likes yoga, and Clint prefers hot tea over coffee. Tony hates when people hand him things...um, Thor has a fondness for cats, Natasha always has a straightener on her, Grace marathons _Lord of the Rings_ once a month, and Steve loves to doodle."

"Wow. That's weird as shit that you know Earth's Mightiest Heroes like that," Robin replied.

"I got to spend a lot of time with them on the helicarrier," Emma answered diplomatically. "Besides, Steve and Grace are pretty close, so I see her a lot, and since she and Tony are engaged, I see a lot of him, too."

"You and Steve have been together a while, right?" Robin asked. She reached forward and took one of the coveted breadsticks. Emma had already had one and a half breadsticks, and she was saving room for the fettuccini alfredo she'd ordered, but damn, she was tempted to have another. Robin had definitely made a good call in suggesting that they go to Romano's.

"About three years now, more or less," Emma replied. "Time flies when you're having fun."

"You hit the jackpot with Rogers, Em. That's for sure. I've only seen him around the hospital once or twice, but the way he looks at you…that boy would go to the ends of the Earth for you without thinking twice."

"He would," Emma said softly, no doubt in her mind. She'd known it since the very first time he'd told her he loved her. She knew without a doubt that Steve Rogers would go to the ends of the Earth and back for her.

* * *

Whenever Steve was on a mission, Emma had the apartment entirely to herself. This was the first time that she'd ever had their D.C. apartment to herself, and she kind of felt that it was fitting to officially "break it in" with time to herself. Home wasn't home until she'd lived in it by herself because Steve was absent on a mission. She didn't mind being by herself; she wasn't one of those people who always needed to be around someone, but she disliked feeling like the stereotypical girlfriend who sat and waited for her man. So to counter those feelings, she'd taken up little hobbies to make herself feel more in control of herself and her situation. And the hobby she'd most recently taken up? Videogames.

Technically, Emma's videogame hobby wasn't brand new; she'd spent her early adolescence and then her entire adolescence around videogames because of her three male cousins, Alex, Evan, and Dave. Her cousins had been the stereotypical men's men—they'd played soccer all throughout their high school career and had then gone on to play it throughout college. As a result of their stereotypical maleness, videogames had been an ever present, driving force in the Carroll household, and Emma had wound up giving into it a little bit. She'd never had quite the same drive and fervor for it that her cousins had had, but she'd definitely learned to hold her own.

So now with Steve off on a mission doing God knew what, she pulled out the videogames and set out to beat her own top score. She would be damned if she started crocheting or quilting or scrapbooking, even though she felt that she could be damn good at scrapbooking. She didn't consider herself to be artistic at all, but she enjoyed preserving bits of her past, something that she felt was one of the reasons Steve had been drawn to her so much. His past was important to him, even if he didn't discuss it very often, and she believed in preserving something that shaped him so much. She valued her own past, and she valued as much of his as he would let her.

Her preservation of her personal past was actually probably one of the reasons why she played videogames whenever Steve was gone—playing videogames reminded her of her family. She hadn't seen her cousins in about three and a half years, and pulling out her videogames reminded her of the closeness she'd once shared with the three cousins that she considered brothers. Alex, Evan, and Dave had been such a huge part of her life growing up, and now she could barely remember the last time she'd seen them. To be fair, though-and she only thought of this to make herself feel less guilty-all four cousins were crazy buys. Alex was an editor for some big publishing company, Evan was working as a physical therapist, Dave was fresh out of college working in a vet clinic, and Emma was constantly at the hospital. The four cousins had very busy lives and very different schedules, and that made it hard to keep in contact all the time.

Sighing, Emma set down the controller and leaned back into the couch, closing her eyes as she did so. Just several days ago, she and Steve had been relaxing to some good romantic comedies, and then he'd been called up to go protect America. She was used to it by now—she really was. But she still missed him whenever he was gone. Robin had asked what it was like to date a superhero, and it was true that Emma never knew how to respond to the question. In fact, when the Smithsonian had interviewed her for the video segment they were planning to feature her in, they'd asked her the same question, and she'd stammered around for some kind of description that hadn't even come close to the true feeling.

Dating a superhero when you weren't a superhero was an indescribable feeling. Whenever Grace answered the same questions for Barbara Walters or John Stossel or whatever show she was being interviewed for, she always had some snarky comeback about how she was a superhero, too, and she was just as much of an Avenger as Tony was, an answer that usually made the interviewer quickly eat back his or her own words. But the fact of the matter was that Emma was not Grace Marks. She couldn't enter a room and know how to take down 20 people with her bare hands—she wasn't even entirely sure that she knew how to punch someone without fucking up her hand. It was easy for someone like Grace to answer questions like that because people like Grace could save the world. Emma could not. And so she was filled with that unpleasant feeling of being left behind while Steve went out to keep America safe.

Feeling an overwhelming nostalgia for home, she pulled out her cell phone and punched in an all too familiar number before she could stop herself. The phone rang twice before a deep, male voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Alex, it's me." Emma smiled at the sound of her cousin's voice.

"Who? Surely not Emma. I haven't talked to her in about two months. I don't think she even remembers I'm alive," Alex said sarcastically into the phone.

"Ha ha, you're so funny," she said in a monotone. "I just wanted to call and say hey since, well, you're right. We haven't talked in two months."

"It'd be nice to hear from you. I have to follow the tabloids to keep up with what you're doing. Speaking of the tabloids, looks like you're pregnant with twins and secretly married. Congrats."

Emma laughed out loud. "Hey, cut me some slack. SHIELD works me hard. Seriously, is everyone in the family out to get me or something? Aunt Lacey called me on Saturday and basically gave me the same speech."

"Em, we just haven't heard from you in a while, and we haven't seen you in even longer. I'm serious. It'd be nice to know that you still exist. How's Superman?" Alex asked. She could hear his infectious grin over the phone, and she couldn't help her own smile that danced broadly over her face.

"He's fine," she replied. "He's actually off on a mission, so to keep myself busy, I was playing videogames, and I had memories of high school and thought I'd give you a call."

"You get any better, or you still suck?" Alex teased.

"Hmmm. Now I remember why I don't call you anymore," she remarked drily.

"Emmy, you take things too seriously. Dating Superman has made you even more serious these days," Alex said. She scowled into the phone.

"Not true," she argued.

"I know. I'm just fucking with you," Alex said. "You actually have _more_ of a sense of humor, which I didn't think would ever happen. Hey, you guys should come home for Christmas. You've spent the past few Christmases in New York, and I know Mom and the rest of us would love to see you and actually meet the boyfriend. Wait, actually, I don't know. Laura might leave me for him, and I'm not entirely sure I'm prepared for that kind of emotional trauma."

"How _is_ Laura, by the way?" Emma asked, referring to the girlfriend Alex had had since college. They'd been together forever, and it was an unspoken assumption that the two would get married, but for one reason or the other, they still hadn't. They lived together, much like Emma and Steve, but they just hadn't gotten around to tying the knot yet.

"She's a little sick right now. Think she caught something from one of her students. You know, kids are gross. They're really fucking gross, and I think they gave her something, so she stayed home today," her cousin answered. Emma could picture him now—light brown hair with light brown eyes, tall and lean the way a stereotypical soccer player looked. People had often thought that she and her cousins were all siblings; despite her blonde hair and grey-green eyes, she shared enough physical similarities in her defined features that people never would've thought that they were cousins instead.

"What are her symptoms?" she asked. _You could take the nurse out of the hospital, but you couldn't take the hospital out of the nurse, _she thought to herself with a wry grin.

"Em, she's fine. She seriously just has a really bad cold, and she'll be back to normal in no time. Oh, have you talked to Dave recently?" Alex asked. Emma frowned, suddenly concerned. Her younger cousin was the sensitive one out of the bunch, the one who was most like Emma. Alex had a sharp, quick wit and outgoing personality, and Evan was funny and goofy, but Dave was the quieter brother who had spent most of his high school years with his nose in his books.

"No, I haven't. Why? Is he ok?" she asked, her tone laced with alarm.

"What? No, yeah, he's fine. I was only asking because he started seeing someone, and that's kind of a huge deal since he's so fucking shy," Alex replied.

"Be nice. Dave's sensitive," Emma argued.

"You can be sensitive and shy! I'm not even saying anything mean. You always think I'm being mean when I'm just being honest. Dave even admits that he's sensitive and shy. No one's feelings are getting hurt," Alex retorted.

"Yeah, whatever." Emma smiled. She sighed. "Hey, I'll let you go now, so you can get back to taking care of Laura while she's sick. Be good to her, and give her lots of water and vitamin C. Alex...it was great talking to you. It really was. I promise I'll try to call more, and when Steve comes back, I'll see what he thinks about coming home with me for Christmas. Aunt Lacey was literally bugging me about bringing him home at some point, so if it works out for both Steve and me, I'll actually do it this year."

"Yeah, it's about time. What? You embarrassed of us or something? Because if you're worried about us scaring him off, we can tone it down. Ev and I'll be good to the guy, though in all reality, you should probably tell him to be good to us because I have no doubt in my mind that he could take us down with one hand tied behind his back. He's Captain fucking America," Alex brightly quipped. Emma laughed heartily to the phone and brought her knees up beneath her, wrapping her free arm around them.

"I'm not embarrassed of you guys, ok? And honestly, I think Steve can handle himself just fine with all of you assholes," she said.

"Seriously, Em, why _don't_ you come home? Not to get weird on you or anything, but…" Alex's voice trailed off, and Emma suppressed her urge to sigh. This was why she didn't call her cousins as often. She'd forgotten until just now. Running a hand down her face, she sighed heavily and closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the couch.

"I don't know. There's just always a lot going on, you know? Steve's in pretty high demand for missions, and I'm always at the hospital…SHIELD doesn't cater to their employees. _We_ have to cater to _SHIELD_," she said tiredly, her eyes still closed. "But I will try to come home for Christmas. I mean it."

"Ok. Well, I'm holding you to that. I'm going to tell Dave and Evan, and we're all going to hold you to your promise, ok? No breaking it," Alex said firmly.

"Ok. I promise. I really will try."

"I know. Bye, Em."

"Bye, Alex. I'll talk to you later." And as Emma pressed END on her iPhone, she knew that both she and Alex had been pretending that they both believed she really would come back for Christmas. It was a conversation they had every single year, and it was a promise she never kept.

* * *

Steve tossed his duffel bag and shield onto the floor and sat down on one of the double beds in the hotel room, exhaustion wracking his entire body. He and Grace had taken turns driving the whole night to get to Chicago, and now they were finally there in the hotel. His eyes felt like sandpaper whenever he blinked, and he was ready for sleep. Just glancing at the bed, he could swear that he could hear it literally calling his name. He glanced over at Grace and saw that she looked tired, too, and for once, she wasn't even bothering to hide it.

"The perimeter's secure," she said with a sigh, allowing her body to lose its energy as she fell back onto the bed she was claiming as hers.

"Don't sense anything?" Steve asked. She shook her head.

"Nope. That's the perk about having these damn survival skills," she replied. She turned her head to the side so she could look at him, and she calmly regarded him with her large amber eyes. "If you were paired up with any other agent but me, you'd have to go do physical inspections, but since you're with me, I can sense it, and bam, now we can go to sleep."

"Where are the files? I can look over them now before we get some rest. I'd rather know what we're up against," Steve said. Grace yawned and sat up, smoothing down the small fly-away strands that were sticking out of her ponytail.

"Steve, we just got here. We're exhausted. We've driven all fucking night. The files can wait," she said tiredly. "Once we wake up tomorrow, we'll be all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and we can start in right away."

Steve didn't like waiting—he would've preferred to have just gotten the research process out of the way so he could wake up prepared and ready to jump in headfirst, but he knew that on some level, Grace was right. He was tired. He'd be more retentive of the information if he just waited and looked over the documents tomorrow, even though he wanted to look over them right then.

Grace stood up and walked to her suitcase, pulling her shirt off as she went to change into a t-shirt and shorts to sleep in. She was completely unabashed about changing in front of him, and really, Steve had worked so many missions with her that he felt relatively ok to change in front of her, too. They were both in committed relationships—Grace was engaged for Christ's sake—and there was no awkwardness between them.

"Who all have you worked missions with again?" she asked, slipping a t-shirt on and removing her jeans in lieu of shorts.

"Basically just you and Natasha. A few other agents, but most consistently, I've been paired up with the two of you," Steve replied. "But I think SHIELD's wanting to put together some kind of special strike team or something like that for the sake of consistency."

"Oh, yeah, I remember Fury mentioning something about that to me sometime last week, I think it was," Grace said. She crossed back to the bed and gracefully leapt onto it. Watching her move and fight was like watching poetry in motion. Grace's movements were always so effortless and fluid, as if she barely used any amount of muscle to do anything. And on top of that, she wasn't clumsy. Steve wasn't sure he'd ever seen her trip or knock into anything.

"Who all have you worked with?" Steve asked in return. The amber-eyed agent blew a heavy sigh out between her lips.

"Bunch of people. I've been with SHIELD for a while now, so I feel like I've been around the block," she said. "These days, when I'm not in the field, they seem fond of having me help train agents."

"You? Training people?" Steve asked in amused surprise. She gave him a bitter glare and nodded.

"Unfortunately. I mean, they're not having me train brand new agents because I think they're afraid I'll fuck those poor kids up, but the really good agents? They're the ones I'm training. Remember Agent Ward? I worked a few missions with him shortly after you and I met face to face for the first time?" she asked. Steve paused as he thought back.

"Maybe?" he responded. "Sorry. You'll have to forgive my memory. In my old age, my mind isn't quite what it used to be."

Grace's mouth twitched into a smile. "So you're finally warming up to the old man jokes."

"I blame it on Tony."

"He'll be so thrilled. Where was I? Oh, Agent Ward. Ward was the best of the best at the SHIELD training academy, so I worked with him and got him up to par. He's a damn good agent, too. Hill says that he's too prickly and too unemotional, but honestly, that's why he's as good as he is," she said truthfully. "Emotions make the job more difficult."

"In no time, you'll have created a whole army of emotionless robots," Steve said drily. She grinned at him and shrugged.

"All in a day's work," she replied and leaned back against the pillows on her bed, closing her eyes and letting out a sigh as she did so.

Steve was already in a t-shirt, and all he would do when he was ready to go to sleep for the night was just take his jeans off—simple as that. He reached into his duffel bag to pull out his toothbrush and toothpaste when suddenly his phone rang. Frowning, he picked it up and looked at the Caller ID, seeing a number he didn't recognize plastered across the screen.

"Hey, are we supposed to get some kind of call or something from HQ?" he asked Grace. The agent was already staring at him, her eyes large and suddenly very alert, having sensed the call before it'd even started ringing. He turned the screen around so she could see the number, and she openly frowned.

"No," she said. Steve mirrored her frown and then looked at the number. Pressing his thumb to Answer, he slid the bar across and put the phone up to his ear.

"Hello?" he answered, his voice all business.

"Captain Rogers. How do you do?" An unfamiliar voice filled his ear, and immediately, he was on alert.

"Who is this?" he asked.

"You'll know soon enough. How are you this evening?" the voice asked. Steve was quiet. "How's Agent Marks?"

"Who are you?" Steve asked firmly.

"I'm a friend. Someone you'll know all in good time. Anyway, I see you don't like to beat around the bush, so I might as well get down to it. I know you're here. I know the both of you are here in Chicago, and I know what you plan to do," the voice said calmly. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm aware of your presence here in my city."

Steve looked over at Grace and knew that she was understanding everything that the man was saying over the phone to Steve thanks to her enhanced hearing. Her face held its typically blank expression, but her eyes were large in her skull as she processed what the man was saying.

"Jackson Marsden," Steve said finally.

"You're correct," the voice confirmed. "I know that you and Agent Marks intend on capturing me, but that's not going to happen. I'm not fleeing Chicago, Captain, but I will not be caught. Do you understand?"

"That's where you're wrong," Steve replied, not allowing his voice to get threatening. He kept it at a calm tone, matching Marsden's. One thing he'd learned from Grace was that nonchalance was the best way to deal with an enemy. The more riled up and upset you got, the more they knew that they had an effect on you, she'd told him.

"Really?" Marsden sounded amused. "Unfortunately, that's where you and I will just have to disagree."

"Steve," Grace said firmly, her eyes suddenly growing even larger. Her tone was urgent, and she suddenly lunged out and grabbed his arm. That was when Steve knew that something was wrong. Grace wasn't releasing any kinds of emotion across her face, but there was something in the way that she grabbed him and in the frantic urgency of her tone that communicated to Steve that things were about to get ugly and, and they were about to get ugly fast.

He paused, and he looked at her, his own blue eyes wide as he began to understand the gravity of the situation surrounding them. She started to pull him towards the door, but before either of them could really do more than move a few inches, the room exploded. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Steve was falling slowly, heat was rising about him, and he was knocked to the ground. The force of impact should've knocked the air out of his lungs, but he was more than ok, though momentarily stunned. As he regained control over himself, he looked to his right and saw Grace on the floor beside him. Her body was limp and unmoving, her face turned away from him. At the sight of her stillness, panic and adrenaline filled Steve's system, and he reached out for her when her head jerked upward. It was then that he saw that her irises had turned black the way they always did whenever she was in survival mode. Steve stopped dead in his tracks; he knew better than to touch her when she was in survival mode. Her eyes focused on him, and she gestured forward with her hand, pushing herself to her feet.

"Go!" she shouted. Flames were around them, and Steve could barely see where the door was through the growing smoke. His head was still spinning from a combination of the explosion and his fall, and the smell of burning fabric and plastic filled his nostrils, choking him with the acrid scent. The room was desperately hot, and his ears were still ringing from the load roar of the actual explosion. Reaching forward, his hand locked around his duffel bag, and he grabbed it. His shield. He needed his shield.

Pushing himself to his feet, he staggered upward and started moving towards his chosen object of protection; in one swift, easy movement, he grabbed the shield and secured it in place on his arm. Funny how he felt better with it on him, how much more confident and prepared he was. Grace had started to retrieve her own bag, but the agent's bag was on fire, and he could hear her mumbling expletives under her breath. Suddenly, she turned towards him, her face a strange mixture of fierce and unexpressive all at the same time.

"They're sending another one! Go!" she shouted. Steve knew that they wouldn't get out of there before the second missile hit, and he lunged towards her, grabbing her and holding up his shield to protect the both of them right in the nick of time. Technically, grabbing Grace when she was in survival mode was a move that could've gotten his neck broken, but instead of fighting him off, she curled up behind his shield and tucked her head down against him. It was then that the second missile hit, and again, the two heroes were sent tumbling to the ground. However, the second missile worked a little too well, and Steve felt the floor give way beneath him, and then he was plummeting downward through the floor. He kept his arms safely around Grace, though he knew that they would both survive the fall with ease, and his protective action was more out of instinct and habit than anything. Slamming into the floor, he found that he was now sprawled out on the floor of the hotel's lobby. People were running and screaming all around them, frantically trying to get out through the revolving front door.

Steve stood up and released Grace quickly before she registered that he was a possible threat and set her mind to taking him down. She stared at him, eyes blazing and chest heaving.

"The missiles came in through the East window, four buildings away. Go take care of it. I can handle the civilians," she ordered. Without hesitating, Steve turned, and he began to run. He dropped his duffel in a bush outside, and he tightened his grip on his shield, and he ran. _Four buildings away to the East, _he mentally repeated to himself as he sprinted in the right direction. He was moving purely on adrenaline now. Emma sometimes accused him of being an adrenaline junkie, and he couldn't say that that wasn't an entirely false accusation per se—he lived off of adrenaline whenever he was working a mission because he had to. In order to save people and to keep them safe, he needed that extra kick.

He reached the fourth building to the East, and he ran up the outside stairs. Back in the past, he never would've been able to handle this kind of physical activity—he never could've been able to run for more than 30 seconds, let alone run up 14 flights of stairs in about two minutes tops. His legs moved faster than his brain could, and that was all that mattered. He just needed to move and get to the top.

And when he reached the roof, he was too late. A helicopter hovered in the sky directly above the building; almost immediately, shots began to fire towards him. Lifting his shield up, Steve held it over his head to protect himself, and he darted for cover behind one of the large, protruding skylights. He was completely out in the open; there was no way he could try to throw his shield to bring the helicopter down without being pummeled by bullets, and he didn't have his goddamn gun on him. There was nothing he could do but let the helicopter lift up higher and farther away, and there was absolutely fucking nothing he could do about it. Anger pumped through his bloodstream, keeping time with his heart, and he carefully lowered his shield in defeat. His blue eyes focused on the helicopter, watching it as it sputtered away from the rooftop.

Suddenly, his phone rang again, the vibrations of it in his pocket alerting him to the ringing device. He couldn't remember sliding it back into his pocket, but apparently, he had. It seemed to him that his connection with technology was becoming stronger since he'd thought to put the damn thing where it was safe on his person even in the middle of an explosion. Swiftly, he yanked it out of his pocket and stared at the Caller ID. The same number that had called him just moments before the explosion was plastered across the screen. Without hesitating, Steve slid the bar across to answer it and brought the phone up to his ear, his chest heaving from physical activity and anger.

"Captain. That was a warning," Jackson Marsden said, his calm tone no different than when he'd called Steve only moments ago. Steve looked around him, suddenly feeling as though he were being watched. He couldn't explain the sensation; he just had the eerie feeling that someone was watching him, and he couldn't identify where that someone was. His light blue eyes scanned over every possible shadow, every building, every window for any hint of movement. In that moment, he wished that he had Grace's senses because she would've been able to identify where someone was watching if someone were indeed watching.

"We're still coming," Steve breathed determinedly into the phone. "A few bombs don't scare us."

"I understand that you're connected with the Carroll family," Marsden said, completely ignoring Steve's threat. The Super Soldier's heart stopped beating, and he froze dead in his tracks. "I take your silence to confirm that I'm correct. Well, Captain Rogers, this is all very coincidental."

"What are you talking about?" Steve asked darkly, his voice laced with a thousand threats.

"The Carroll family," Marsden said smoothly. "Your girlfriend's parents were Thomas and Leah Carroll. It just so happens that this whole story is coming full circle. You and Agent Marks are coming after me because I ordered the deaths of 23 SHIELD agents via plane crash, and Thomas and Leah Carroll were killed in a plane crash. One of _my_ plane crashes. On _my _orders."


	4. Truth

**Shoutouts to stuffoflegends, thecruelworldwelivein, and MsRose91 for reviewing!**

**I know it took me a while to update! I'll try not to let it be so long next time. I alternate between writing a chapter for my _Supernatural _fanfic and this one, so it takes a bit longer than if this were my only focus! Thanks for being so patient with me.**

**This chapter has some more exposition development. The Emma section doesn't have a lot of action in it, but hopefully y'all still enjoy that as well.**

**If you've read the story before this, _Healing Touch_, I'm going back and rewriting parts of it. Don't worry, I'm not changing anything drastic. I just feel like I got some of Steve's character wrong in that story, particularly after I've seen _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_, and I feel like I need to rewrite bits of it to make it match up with how his character really is. Just wanted to give you guys a heads up on that!**

**Alright, sorry, this was a bit of a long Author's Note! As always, let me know your thoughts!**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Captain 4

Steve was silent. A bitter taste filled his mouth, and he found that he could not physically move his tongue in order to make words come out. Silently, he fixed his eyes to one spot on the rough surface of the roof. He stared at that spot as though his entire life depended on it.

"You're surprised, Captain Rogers. I imagine that this comes as news to you," Marsden said. Steve blinked, and finally, he forced himself to look up, to lift his eyes and gaze at the gaping, burning hole in the side of the hotel he'd just come from.

"We're coming for you," he said, his voice low and threatening. Without another word, he hung up. His chest constricted as he struggled to breathe, not from physical exertion but from the force of the shock he'd just experienced. Swiftly, he turned over his shoulder and began to walk down the stairs that he'd just run up only moments ago. Moments ago. It seemed like another goddamn lifetime that he'd rushed to the roof in order to take down the person who'd shot the missiles. He was sick and tired of points in his life feeling like they'd happened years ago—it was a feeling he was becoming way too familiar with.

Surely Marsden had been lying. Surely he hadn't been speaking the truth. If what Marsden had said was true, then it would mean that Emma's parents had been involved with SHIELD, and that seemed unthinkable in and of itself. His mind raced 30 miles per second as he began to pick up his pace—he couldn't keep his mind still, and he couldn't keep his legs still, either. Soon he was running. There was only one person that he could think of who would know what was happening, and that was Grace.

His pace increased until he was jogging back to the hotel. Somehow, Agent Grace Marks had managed to evacuate the entire building and get everyone safely outside. She hadn't earned her place on the Avengers for nothing, Steve thought briefly through the wild torrent of thoughts running through his brain. She sensed him, and she paused as he approached.

"I need to talk to you," he said urgently. The black of her irises faded into her usual light amber, and she gazed up at him calmly.

"I got everyone out unharmed. Just so you can sleep better at night," she said. He ignored her and stared hard at her. Something in her brain clicked, and she folded her arms over her chest. "You're angry."

"I just got off the phone. Another call from Jackson Marsden," he said firmly and evenly, forcing his voice to be slow and calm. "Two of his 23 kills were Thomas and Leah Carroll. Emma's parents." Grace stared back at him, her face unchanging, and that was all the answer that Steve nodded. His jaw tensed, and he narrowed his blue eyes at her. "That's why you kept me away from the files."

"I was preparing to tell you in a better way," she replied, her voice matching how calm and unexpressive her face was. "I didn't think you'd want to be thrown such information by a collection of papers detailing a list of names that were otherwise unimportant and unfeeling."

"Really? So you weren't going to just keep finding ways to dodge the subject? You wouldn't have just found it easier to keep me in the dark until I'd finished the job?" he asked.

"No, I was going to tell you, Steve," Grace said. "I promise you I was planning on telling you."

"What the hell is all this about then?" Steve demanded angrily, and he swept his arms open to put the scene around them on display. "What's going on?"

"I'll tell you later," she said. "We need to get out of here. Everyone's safe. Our job is done. We need to relocate."

"So let's go," Steve said tersely. He started to walk, but Grace grabbed his arm, effectively halting him in his place.

"The car's probably rigged," she said. "We'll have to lift one."

"Of course," Steve said. He sighed and looked at Grace, who was already scanning the street with a casual expression on her sharp, angular face. Most everyone nearby was freaking out about the flaming motel, and that meant that basically no one was watching the cars parked out on the street. "I'm going to get my bag."

He turned over his shoulder and moved discreetly back through the crowd towards the bush that he'd dumped his duffel bag in. He forced his breathing to calm down, the boil beneath his skin to settle down. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the sound of Jackson Marsden's voice talking about Emma's parents out of his mind. Emma had never mentioned anything about her parents being affiliated with SHIELD—hell, she might not even know. Most likely, she _didn't_ know because he knew her, and he knew that she would've said something to him.

But why had her parents been wrapped up in the organization? It made sense the more he thought about it, though. Emma had said that SHIELD had approached her when she was still in college and had told her that they were looking at her and wanted to hire her after she'd graduated. How else would SHIELD have known about Emma Carroll's existence? She was a good nurse—she'd been in the top of her class, but she hadn't been _the _top. They would've known about her through her parents' involvement.

He grabbed his bag and hauled it over his shoulder. He turned back towards the curb, and as he did so, a car pulled up beside the curb, and lo and behold, Grace was behind the wheel. It didn't surprise him that she'd been able to lift the car so quickly; Grace could've been a damn good criminal had she ever gone dark side and not been turned onto SHIELD's side. She would've been the person that SHIELD had been hunting, not the one doing the hunting.

He opened the door and slid in, shoving his duffel bag into the backseat. Grace's bag wasn't there since it'd been, unfortunately, hit by one of the missiles in the hotel, and he knew that at some point, they'd have to stop to get her new clothes and new supplies for tomorrow. He'd barely closed the door before Grace took off.

"What's going on?" he asked, not wasting any time. Grace hated when people didn't get directly to the point, and honestly, Steve wasn't in the mood to fuck around. His mind had been blown in the most unpleasant way just moments before, and he had lots of questions and no answers.

"I don't know much more than you, but Emma's parents were a part of SHIELD," Grace said, her voice still as calm as it'd been before.

"Yeah, I was able to gather that much," Steve ironically remarked.

"I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong. Thomas and Leah Carroll weren't agents. They were a pilot/navigator team, and they flew SHIELD's planes. They did pretty low-key stuff, mainly transportation for supplies, but they did fly a few missions, and for whatever reason, Marsden targeted them and killed them," Grace quickly explained. The words trickled easily out of her mouth and into the air. Steve was quiet for a few moments as he processed everything she'd just said.

"Emma was on the plane that killed them," he said, remembering Emma mentioning how she'd had to go to therapy for several years after the crash to deal with the post-traumatic stress she'd gotten from it. The whole reason she'd become a nurse was to deal with her fear of hospitals, she'd said.

"I don't know why," Grace admitted. "There are a lot of answers that no one's given me. That's seriously all I know, Steve. I swear."

"And all that was in the file?" Steve asked. She nodded.

"Yeah. I was able to snatch that before it went up in flames, but everything's there. All the individual reports on the people who were killed in Marsden's attacks, all their background, the reports of the plane crashes…everything. It's all in the file." She reached into the space between the driver's seat and the console and produced a thick manila envelope, and she passed it to Steve. Silently, Steve accepted it, and he held it in his hands. All he could think about was Emma. Her face, her smile, her eyes. Emma, who had no idea that her parents had been flying for SHIELD. Emma, who had absolutely no clue that she was more involved with this whole thing than she ever could've dreamed up.

"We need to get this guy," Steve said in a monotone. Grace glanced sharply at him, rebuke written all over her eyes.

"Steve, don't let your emotions cloud this," she warned.

"Yeah. Emotions make the job more difficult. I remember," he said bitterly. A flash of something passed over her face, and instead of feeling like he was being let in on something the way he usually did whenever Grace allowed him to catch a peek of emotion, Steve felt nothing.

"I'm serious," she said. "Emotions cloud judgment, and a lot of shit happens. When emotions get in the way, you start fucking up more, and neither of us can afford to fuck up. Marsden is a seriously fucked up guy. SHIELD has no clue what his motive is for any of this—we have _no_ idea. We don't have any wiggle room as far as fucking up goes."

"I know," Steve insisted sharply. "All the more reason for taking him down."

"Emma will be ok. Do you hear me?" Grace said. He looked over at her, his blue eyes icy at the mention of his girlfriend. Grace always seemed to know what the heart of the problem was. Other than Emma, she knew him better than anyone else in the world. Grace and Emma, the two ever-present forces in his life that reminded him of why he did what he did.

"Yeah," he said. Adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, and more than anything, he wanted to go immediately after Marsden. "What do we do now?"

"We hunt him down. He said he wasn't going to leave Chicago, so that means that he'll still be here. If he's going to be one of those dickheads, we won't have to look far," she said.

"Marsden Aircraft Company," Steve said.

"Bingo. He's got a meeting at 10:00 A.M. tomorrow right on the dot. He'll be expecting us, so we'll just have to go in guns blazing." She paused. "And by guns blazing, I mean, 100% undercover."

"Undercover?" Steve repeated. "I thought undercover wasn't really your thing."

"Oh, it's not," Grace replied. "That's what Natasha does best. I kind of suck at undercover."

"Great," Steve mumbled under his breath.

"But hope's not lost," Grace said cheerfully. "I suck at undercover compared to Natasha, who's the world's fucking best at it. I'm still good enough to convince everyone else that I'm who I say I am. Time to bust out the colored contacts."

Had Steve not still been angry at the amber-eyed agent, he would've smiled. Grace's eyes were so unusual and unordinary that they were easily memorable. Also, there was the whole celebrity-fiancee-of-Tony-Stark thing that she had going for her, so it was doubly easy for her to be memorable.

"Alright," he said out loud.

"So Emma has no idea about her parents?" Grace asked, completely changing the subject. He shot her a sharp look across the car.

"No," he said, his voice tight.

"Have you never wondered why SHIELD targeted her the way they did?" she asked. "SHIELD doesn't just…take interest in people like that."

"They took interest in me, and they took interest in you," Steve pointed out. Grace sighed.

"That's beside the point," she said tiredly. "You and I are completely different stories. SHIELD or SSR or whatever you want to call them took an interest in you because you were the right kind of person that they needed for Erskine's serum. SHIELD took an interest in me because they heard that I'd been shot in the head and had survived. That's not something they just let pass like that. I was an 0-8-4, and they were interested in me because of it. They wouldn't take notice of Emma for any other reason than her parents' connection."

"I'm still trying to wrap my brain around it," Steve said in a quiet voice. "Anything else you want to tell me, while we're at it?"

"Coulson's alive," Grace said. Steve whipped his head around from where he'd been gazing out the window at the Chicago lights, and he stared at Grace with wide blue eyes.

"What?" he asked incredulously. "He—I thought—"

"When I mentioned Ward earlier this evening, I said that he's off doing really well for himself. Well…it's with Coulson. They're their own team, and they're basically doing their thing. Hunting down bad guys and keeping the country safe," she said.

"How did that happen?" Steve asked. Grace shrugged and pressed her lips together.

"Honestly, I'm at a loss for it as well," she admitted. "All I know is that Fury pulled a lot of strings. But he doesn't tell me much. I maybe Level Nine, but I'm still kept in the dark about a lot of things. Compartmentalization."

"Why hasn't anyone told us?" Steve demanded. She glanced at him flippantly and then returned her gaze back to the street.

"Compartmentalization," she repeated. "You're not supposed to know about Coulson. No one else on the team knows. Not even Tony."

"So why'd you tell me?" Steve asked, frowning. She was quiet for a few seconds, her amber eyes glued out the windshield in front of her. For a moment, Steve wondered if she was even going to answer at all, but then she opened her mouth.

"I trust you," she said. "Right now, I think you aren't sure if you can trust me."

"Grace—"

"And I don't blame you. I'd be pretty fucking mad if you'd kept something like that from me," she said, and then she looked at him, her amber eyes squinting the slightest bit. "But now isn't the time to get all twisted up with shit like that because we have a mission in front of us. You know the truth. We go in tomorrow, we capture Marsden, and we get answers."

"Em's parents…" Steve's voice trailed off, and he looked out the window again. He just couldn't stop thinking about it. Emma had thought for so many years that she was free of all this, that she had no real connection to this organization, but it turned out that she was connected in ways that nobody could've foreseen. For the first real moment since he'd met the blonde nurse, he felt afraid for her. He felt afraid because he wasn't sure what all these secrets in her past were, those that she didn't know about, and how they could possibly come back to haunt her now and in the future.

"We all have dark pasts, Steve," Grace said, the tone of her voice mirroring his. "We all have our demons."

And Steve couldn't answer because he knew that she was right.

* * *

The next day, bright and early at 9:00 A.M., Steve donned his new and rebooted Captain America uniform. SHIELD had thought that it was time to give it an updated, brand new look, and that was exactly what they'd done. The colors were much more muted. Dark blue, almost grey-looking, and absolutely no red whatsoever. It was a modern twist to a very old uniform that'd for so long been such a part of his life. Hell, he'd even go so far as to say that his old uniform had helped him find some kind of identity within himself.

As for Grace, she was dressed in a professional suit. She had the blazer, pencil skirt, and sky high heels to boot, all topped off with a short, dark wig and brown colored contacts. She pulled her phone out and glanced at it, a frown settling deep into the corners of her mouth.

"Shit," she murmured.

"What?" Steve asked. "Are we ready?"

"Shit, I know this number," Grace replied, not entirely answering his question, and she slid the bar across on her phone to answer it. She put the phone up to her ear and frowned even deeper as she began to pace, the way she always did whenever she was on the phone. "Hello?"

Steve watched with concern as she started walking towards the window of the room. In the back of his mind, he couldn't help thinking that maybe it was Jackson Marsden calling again. There was a niggling taunt in the back of his brain, a certain kind of cautiousness, that put him on edge that they were about to be under attack again. Suddenly, Grace stopped, her amber eyes huge in her skull as she heard something that apparently changed things. He crossed towards her, and she looked at him.

"Thank you, sir," she said quietly into the phone, and she hung up.

"What is it?" Steve asked. She looked down at the phone and then back up at him. Just like that, she'd gone from being a shocked agent to normal Grace. No trace of shock or surprise like she'd had a second ago. Even though Steve was close to Grace, he was still sometimes thrown off when he saw how easily she could switch from emotions to robot. She looked up at him, her face steady and clear, and when she spoke, her voice was just as steady and firm.

"Jackson Marsden killed himself last night. He's dead."

* * *

Emma was pretty easygoing as far her job went; she was more than happy to go wherever she was assigned, and for the most part, she'd always gotten assignments that made her life a lot easier. She knew enough nurses who got assigned shitty departments. For a few months back in New York right before she'd moved, her old friend Felicia had been put in Infectious Diseases and had hated. Emma had always been thankful for never having been assigned to Infectious Diseases because it just seemed like a goddamn nightmare.

Usually, Emma just made rounds and took care of the patients she was assigned to. She enjoyed interacting with the sick or wounded agents, and they seemed to enjoy talking with her. She was a people person, always loving to talk with stranger and get to know them. And SHIELD was chockfull of interesting people, to say the least. She'd met agents up and down with all kinds of fascinating backstories—of course, the agents never gave too much away. After all, they did work for SHIELD, and SHIELD agents knew better than to talk too much, but they always told her enough that made her work more interesting.

Robert Simmers was one of those agents. Since she'd been assigned to him, she'd learned a little bit of his background. He'd grown up on a small farm out in the Midwest and had always been interested in the CIA and the FBI. When he'd graduated from college, he'd headed straight to D.C. and had somehow ended up at the SHIELD Academy, training for entrance. He was full of stories that Emma wasn't sure were completely true but didn't mind because they were good stories, and he was more than happy to tell her a good joke.

On the bright side, he'd been burning up with infection just yesterday, but when she'd walked into his room earlier that morning, his fever had broken, and with each passing hour, he seemed to be getting better. As she walked into the room to check him again, he smiled at her.

"Good afternoon, Nurse Carroll," he greeted.

"Good afternoon, Agent Simmers," she cheerfully replied. "How are you feeling now? Better still?"

"Amazingly enough," he admitted. "Still in a shit ton of pain, though."

"Well, that axe wound won't be getting better overnight the way your fever did," she said. "I'm just here to check in on you. Is there anything I can get you?"

"No, I'm good," he replied in a good-natured tone. "I'm just waiting for this to pass so I can get back out again."

"If I had a dime for every time I heard someone say that," Emma replied with a sigh. "What is it with you agents dying to get back out there so someone else can try to land you back in here again?"

"Someone's got to do it." Simmers smiled calmly at her. "I'm sure you're used to it, though. Captain America's girl."

"Yeah, something like that." Emma checked his IV and ran the thermometer across Simmers's forehead to get a temperature. She checked it and saw that it read normal. "You are completely fever-free. You're on the rise, Agent."

"Perfect!" Simmers declared as enthusiastically as someone with an axe wound could. "I've had excellent medical care. That Steve Rogers of yours is in good hands if he ever gets hurt."

Emma beamed at him. "Thankfully, he knows better than to get hurt on his missions. He knows he'd be in deep trouble."

Simmers chuckled lightly, slightly wincing from the pain as he did so. "I hope he knows how lucky he is. A girl back home for him with magic healing hands. A girl back home period. Miss Carroll, when you're in this field…that's a little impossible. So I hope he knows how good he has it to have you."

Emma paused, thrown off by the sudden seriousness in Simmers's voice. He was usually so jovial and upbeat that this look on his face didn't appear as though it fit there. She stared at him levelly, and she slowly nodded. He seemed to be satisfied with her answer, and he nodded at her before leaning back into his pillows and picking up the remote.

"Did you see the news? Chicago's having a bit of a rough time," he remarked. Emma frowned, and she shook her head, turning to glance up at the TV.

"No, I didn't see," she said. "What's going on?"

"There was a pretty nasty explosion at one of the hotels last night, and you know Marsden Aircraft Company? The founder and CEO killed himself last night," he replied grimly. "It's all over the news stations."

"God, that's awful," Emma said, and she paused to watch a few frames of the news. It seemed like every time she looked at the news, there was something happening. It'd always been that way, though. There were always bad things that happened in the world, and they would always happen. A million Captain Americas wouldn't be able to stop the continuing destruction that humans believed in ensuing upon the Earth. Or Asgardians. Asgardians seemed to be pretty fond of wreaking havoc on Earth, as well.

"That's why we're all so anxious to get back on our feet again." Simmers nodded towards the TV, gesturing with the hand that was holding the remote towards it as well.

"I can't blame you," she said. "Well, Agent, I'll let you go. I'll check back in with you later, ok? Are you sure there's nothing I can get you?"

"No, no, I'm fine, Miss Carroll. Thank you for being so sweet to ask, though." Simmers smiled at her, and she returned it before turning and leaving the room to continue her rounds. Patients often had down days whenever they were in the hospital, particularly the SHIELD agents since they _were _so antsy and unable to sit still for long. Emma wondered what the Academy taught them that made them feel as though they couldn't spend a week in the hospital to heal themselves before continuing to rid the world of evil one person at a time.

She knew that her next patient, Agent Sandra Allen, needed an IV change at about this time, and she set about to getting that taken care of. Agent Allen had been in a coma for the past two months, meaning that she'd been under a month before Emma had started working there. She walked down the hall to get a fresh bag of saline to change out the bags. Sometimes she was so busy thinking that she wasn't paying attention to where she was going, and this proved true when she turned around and nearly bumped into another nurse, Carly Olsen.

"Oh, shit! I'm sorry. I didn't see you there," Emma gasped apologetically. Carly smiled brightly at her and waved her hand.

"Oh, God, don't worry about it," she said. "Hey, I was actually meaning to catch you today to tell you that I went to Steve's exhibit this weekend. My boyfriend and I both went, and we saw your portion of the exhibit. It was kind of weird seeing you around because I know you in real life, but it was great. We both enjoyed it."

"Really? Wow, everyone's said really good things about it so far. Steve and I haven't had a chance to go yet, but we've been dying to go see it. I'll let him know you enjoyed it," she said warmly.

"Yeah. He's quite the celebrity around here," Carly replied. "You both are, really."

Emma laughed softly and shook her head. "I'm really not. He's the one who saves people."

"What do you think we do?" Carly asked, as though the answer were obvious. She reached out and put a gentle hand on Emma's shoulder. "We're needed just as much as those Avengers are. But hey, I've got to run. I'll see you later. Probably when we're on break around the same time in a few hours, I think. Let Steve know we enjoyed the exhibit!"

And with that, she was gone. For a few seconds, Emma stood still in her spot. The whole encounter had happened so quickly that she wasn't entirely sure it'd happened at all. She didn't really know Carly Olsen; the nurse was sweet, and she'd been very welcoming to Emma, but Emma had bonded more with Robin since Robin had been the one to train her and show her around. And yet, it seemed that whenever Emma was having some kind of self-doubting crisis, Carly Olsen was the one who appeared out of nowhere and somehow knew the right things to say to make her feel better.

About two weeks into her time at the D.C. location, Emma had been feeling overwhelmed and stressed, and she'd ducked into the bathroom for a few seconds to try to get a hold on her nerves. She usually wasn't the kind of person who got anxious and freaked out, but the D.C. SHIELD hospital was so different from the New York location, and Emma had felt as though she were in a whole other country.

And Carly had walked in and seen Emma splashing water on her face, and she'd walked over to Emma, rubbed her reassuringly on the shoulder, and told her that everyone was new at some point, and everyone became seasoned at some point. Surprisingly enough, it'd made Emma feel better.

"We're needed just as much as those Avengers are."

Carly's words played through Emma's head again as she walked down the hall to switch out Agent Allen's saline bag. Carly had seemed to know that Emma had been feeling like the left-behind girlfriend of Captain America, and she'd seemed to know the right thing to say to make Emma feel less pathetic. She entered Agent Allen's room and set to changing the bags, glancing at the unconscious agent to make sure that everything was ok.

A knock on the door behind her sounded, and she glanced over her shoulder. Robin was peeking in, beaming widely at her. "Hey."

"Hey. What's up?" Emma asked. She gestured with her head for Robin to come in while she finished changing the bags. Robin took a quick step in and leaned against the doorframe.

"Not much. Dr. Avery wanted to check in with me on one of the medication changes for one of my agents, and I was on the way to see her when I caught you in here. I heard Simmers is doing better," the dark-haired nurse said. Emma nodded and picked up the empty saline bag as soon as she got the full one taken care of. She turned to face Robin and nodded again.

"Yeah, his fever broke sometime last night, so that's a good sign. Still has a long way to go with that axe wound, though," she said. She paused, and then she frowned slightly. "How often do you go home to visit your family?"

"How often?" Robin repeated. She blew out a breath and folded her arms over her chest, glancing upwards as she thought. "Hmmm. I'm not sure. Maybe every few months? Whenever I get a chance. Why?"

"Oh, I just haven't been home in a while, and my family's been on my tail about it a little bit," Emma replied with an innocent shrug. She wished that she had Grace's ability to cover up her emotions so easily—Grace was a damn pro at it, always throwing the paparazzi and the media off her tail with how simply she could manipulate her emotions. However, she figured she must've been doing a pretty decent job because Robin didn't seem to question it.

"My parents are usually pretty ok. My sister goes home a decent amount, so they stay off my case about it. I think they'd like it if I went to visit more often, but whatever." Robin shrugged and pushed up off the doorframe that she was leaning on. "I'm going to go grab Dr. Avery and see what she wants to debrief me on. We still on for lunch?"

"Of course," Emma said, and she walked down the hall to properly dispose of the saline bag in her hand. She looked down at it and almost felt a sense of comfort in seeing it there. Her relationships in life were unsteady, namely her relationship with Steve. She couldn't always say where he was or what he was doing; she couldn't always vouch for his safety. But at the end of the day, she could always be sure of the fact that there would still be saline bags that needed changing, fevers that needed breaking, and medicines that needed distributing. Those few consistencies in her life were something that she didn't take for granted.

* * *

Whenever Emma got off her shifts, she was starving. She thought about stopping by a bakery to get some coffee and a cheese bagel for dinner on the way home, but she was too tired. Her muscles ached from running around—she'd been called down to the ER for a few hours because they'd had a shortage of nurses and an abundance of wounded agents—and all she wanted to do was be in her bed.

She reached her apartment, feeling that anticipation of being home flood her system. She couldn't wait to be back. Twisting her key in the lock, she turned the doorknob and entered the large, spacious apartment. There were just a few boxes left that needed to be unpacked, but for the most part, everything was unpacked and right in its spot. Maybe tomorrow, if she weren't so tired, she'd go through the last few boxes and get them taken care of.

She closed the door behind her, and that was when she realized that the lights in the apartment were already on. Frowning, she turned around to face the interior of her home, and she saw a figure coming out from the kitchen. She didn't need to see the shape's face to know that it was Steve.

"Steve?" she asked, though she knew it was him. She would've known the shape of him anywhere. Her smile split across her face, and she walked towards him, her arms open and her head tilted upwards. Suddenly, all the exhaustion that she'd felt just seconds ago seemed to evaporate. She felt as though she had all the energy in the world because Steve was home, and he was, thankfully, alive just as he'd promised.

"Surprise," Steve said, and he tilted his head down to kiss her. Her hands landed on either side of his face, and she kissed him warmly. His arms snaked around her waist and slowly drew her in towards him, pressing her against the length of his body. He closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of her. She smelled like the hospital—disinfectant and medicine would always be a part of her scent, he knew, but underneath all of it, he could still smell the soft lavender of her shampoo. _This is the smell of home_, he thought to himself.

"Baby, you're back," Emma said happily, pulling back and smiling so brightly she could've illuminated all of D.C. with just her smile alone. She reached up and kissed him again. "God, I missed you."

"I missed you, too, honey," Steve replied. He kissed her on the forehead and breathed her in again. Reluctantly, he pulled back and took her hand in his. "I made coffee. I wasn't sure if you'd want any since it's a little late, but…I thought I'd make some anyway."

"I'd love some coffee," she said appreciatively, unable to take her eyes off him. As much as she hated the goodbyes, she certainly loved the hellos. She was also used to coming home and finding him on the couch or already asleep in bed, but she enjoyed each homecoming even more than the last the more that she fell in love with him. She crossed behind him into the kitchen and sat on the stool next to his, watching him as he walked over to the coffee pot and poured some into a mug for her before grabbing the two sugars and two creams that he knew she'd ask for if he didn't get them.

When he turned around, it was then that she saw he had some cuts and bruises on his face. Again, she was used to finding them on him. Scanning over him with the professional eyes of a nurse, she saw him otherwise unharmed. He seemed to catch her looking at him because he glanced up at her as he crossed back to the island and set the coffee in front of her.

"I'm in one piece, you know," he told her, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He hopped onto the stool beside her and pulled his own cup of coffee in closer towards him.

"I know. It's more out of habit than anything," she said sheepishly and offered up a shrug. She pulled the mug in with one hand and then reached out and touched his face with the other hand. Closing his beautiful blue eyes at her touch, he turned his face in towards her palm and lightly kissed the heel of her hand. "Mission successful?"

"Something like that," he replied vaguely. Without warning, something passed over his face, and it caused him to look down, almost as if he couldn't meet her eyes. Emma frowned, noticing the sudden change in him, and she scooted forward on the edge of her stool.

"Is everything ok?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. Steve was silent, and for a few seconds, Emma had the horrible notion that something had happened to Grace. But then he looked up, and he nodded. And then he shook his head.

"Em…this mission…" His voice trailed off, and he sighed, looking up at the ceiling, anywhere but her.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Is it Grace?"

"No. No, Grace is ok," he said reassuringly. He paused, and he put a hand over his mouth, leaning his elbow against the edge of the island. His inner conflict was evident, and she only found herself growing more and more concerned the longer he was quiet.

"Steve, what's wrong?" she repeated. Finally, he looked straight at her, and his face was grim.

"I know what happened to your parents."


	5. Questions

**Shoutouts to Lilybear3121, stuffoflegends, StarlitStar, and MsRose91 for reviewing!**

**Alright! For those of you who've read _Healing Touch_, I've rewritten and reposted the first 10 chapters of _Healing Touch_. The story is still the same, but there have been some changes to both Steve's and Emma's characters because I really messed them up, particularly Steve's. So I've gotten those rewritten and up if you're interested in going back and rereading them. The chapters are longer, there's more character development on both of their parts (especially Steve's), and some of their conversations have been altered because I didn't feel as though they were historically accurate, characteristically accurate, or anything of that sort. If you're interested, go give those chapters a read and feel free to let me know what you think. (PM or review is fine. I always answer my PMs, even if I don't answer within the first 24 hours!)**

**In this chapter, we've got some fluff, a little bit of steam, and a lot of questions going on as Emma tries to figure out what's going on.**

**As always, let me know your thoughts, opinions, etc.! So far, I've gotten a lot of really positive feedback on this story, and I'm so glad you guys are enjoying it. Reading what you have to say always inspires me! Ok, I'm done with this really long Author's Note. Sorry!**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 5

Emma stared at Steve in confusion, and then she frowned.

"Steve, I know what happened to my parents," she said slowly. "They were killed in a plane crash."

Steve shook his head. God, he had no idea how to do this. He had no idea how to tell her, so he took a deep breath, and he thought of how Grace hated when people beat around the bush instead of just jumping right into what they really wanted to say. He had to just dive in and tell her—pain was inevitable, but he hated that he was the one to bring Emma this pain. "Em…your parents were involved with SHIELD."

Emma's sea-colored eyes widened, and she hesitantly shook her head. Her heart started thudding deep in her chest; she couldn't breathe. Steve was back, and he was here in their kitchen, and he'd made coffee, and he had bruises on his face, and he was telling her that her parents had been involved with SHIELD. One of these things was not like the other. Find the lie in the middle of a list of truths. Swallowing hard, she shook her head again, this time more violently.

"What? No. No, they weren't involved with SHIELD," she said, her voice coming out as a whisper. "My dad was a pilot, and my mom was a navigator. They weren't SHIELD agents."

"They flew planes for SHIELD," Steve answered, his heart shattering as he saw the panicked, confused look on Emma's face. "They mainly flew supplies, but they did fly a few missions, and for whatever reason, they were targeted by a man named Jackson Marsden—"

"CEO of Marsden Aircraft Company," Emma interrupted, her eyes continuing to grow wide in her skull. "He killed himself last night. I—I saw it on the news. Was that—"

"Grace and I didn't do anything to him," Steve said quickly before Emma could get the wrong idea. "He sent missiles after us when he discovered that we were in town. That's how I got these." He pointed to his face.

Emma's throat tightened, and she couldn't fucking breathe. Her lungs just weren't drawing in oxygen, even though she'd been inhaling and exhaling for the past five minutes. She couldn't get enough fucking oxygen; she shook her head again and stood up, setting her coffee mug on the counter.

"But—but that doesn't make any sense," she protested. "I was on that plane with them. Why would that guy target that plane when—oh, God."

"Emma? Emma, are you ok?" Steve was up in a flash, and he was beside her. His hands grasped her shoulders, and he stared at her with concern written across his face. She was breathing deeply and frantically, as if she couldn't catch enough air; Steve had never seen her like this, and it terrified him. Emma was so calm. She was the one who kept him under control. She was the one who loved soft acoustic music because it soothed her, and she liked feeling relaxed.

"I'm ok. I'm ok," she said, her hands locking around his arms. She looked up at him, and Steve's heart shattered all over again as he saw the pain and the anguish clear on the surface of her wide, grey-green eyes. "My parents…oh, my God."

"Em…Em, honey…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Steve didn't know what to say. There were never the right words to tell someone when the whole world as they'd known it fell apart at their feet. He remembered when he'd first woken up, his world dashed and shattered, and Emma had never tried to offer any words of wisdom to him because she knew that no matter what she'd said, she never would've been able to heal the vast, gaping hole inside him. So he did the only thing he knew could get through to her to let her know he was here: he held her. He pulled her into him, and he held her close, feeling how she collapsed against him and clutched him against her.

"Tell me everything," she said quietly, so quietly that at first, Steve wasn't sure that he'd heard it. She allowed him to lead her to the couch, and she sat down with him, and she listened. She listened to him tell her about how he and Grace had gone to take Marsden in for questioning. She listened to Steve talk about the missiles at the hotel. She listened to Steve as he related how Grace had told him the truth: Thomas and Leah Carroll had been working for SHIELD, and they'd died in a plane crash that had been caused by Jackson Marsden. She listened to his theory that SHIELD approached her in college with a job offer because of the connection she'd had to the organization through her parents. She sat, and she listened.

When Steve was done speaking, she'd gained some control back over herself. She could breathe, though her chest still felt tight, and her heart wasn't beating out an impossible-to-follow rhythm against her ribs. She gazed levelly at Steve, and she nodded to let him know that she'd heard everything and that she was following him.

"It all makes sense," she finally said, the first words she'd spoken in about 10 minutes. Steve's light blue eyes were worried as he looked at her, and he nodded in response.

"I thought so, too," he said. He paused. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah," she replied. Then she paused, too, and she shook her head. "No." Steve went to say something, but she opened her mouth to speak before he could get any more words out. "Did he really kill himself?"

"Yes. That's why Grace and I are back so early. I've been at Headquarters all day processing back in and getting debriefed. Whatever the reason…he killed himself. He's dead," Steve answered. Emma stared at him, and then she nodded.

"Ok," she said. She was quiet as she struggled to process everything he'd just told her. Everything she'd known and had ever believed about her parents had turned out to be a lie. They'd told her that they worked as alternates for Delta Airlines—she'd been young. She hadn't thought to question her parents because they were her parents; they were supposed to tell her the truth. She'd had no reason to doubt them.

And now, Steve was here, and he'd told her that her life had turned out to be something she never could've expected. But it really did make sense now. She'd always wondered why SHIELD had approached her, how they'd heard about her and gotten their hands on her grades. It made sense. They'd probably kept an eye on her all throughout her middle school and high school years, watching her and monitoring her. And when she'd reached college and been among the top of her class in the nursing program, they'd reached out to her and pulled her in.

"Emma." Steve's voice brought her back, and she looked at him. She hadn't even realized that she'd drawn her knees up to her chest and tucked her arms protectively between her torso and her legs. It hit her that she hadn't curled in on herself like that since she'd had night terrors and panic attacks of the plane crash when she was young. Slowly, she released her muscles, and she kept her eyes on Steve, waiting for him to say something.

But he didn't. He always knew what to do, though. And he proved that by holding his arms out to her and letting her climb onto his lap where he could just hold her. Emma wrapped her arms around his upper shoulders, and she tilted her head against his shoulder so that the tip of her nose touched the skin of his neck. His arms slid fluidly around her, keeping her safe and protected against him. She closed her tumultuous eyes and deeply breathed in his scent, allowing the familiarity of him calm her ever-turning emotions.

She could hold him forever and never get used to how solid he was. Every inch of him was pure solid muscle, and she knew this for a fact. She'd spent many nights tracing his bare body with her lips and her hands, memorizing each edge and line and curve of him. She knew his body in all his strength and solidarity almost better than she knew her own—she found home within the swells of his skin and the swells of his heart.

"I love you," Steve said softly, his own eyes closed as he tilted his head into Emma's hair. He felt her arms tighten around him.

"I love you, too." She pulled back and looked at him, her face a mixture of distraught and confused. "Aunt Lacey. I wonder if she knows. I wonder who else knows."

"I don't know," Steve replied. "The files don't reveal that."

"My mom used to read picture books of Amelia Earhart out loud to me when I was little," she said, her voice quiet as her mind took her back to when she was a little kid. Steve was silent, one hand lightly rubbing her back. Emma didn't talk about her childhood that often, but when she did, he paid attention. She smiled at him, her smile full of nostalgia for a time she barely remembered. "I wanted to be just like Amelia Earhart. Until my mom bought me a book about Clara Barton, and I decided I wanted to be a nurse."

"I thought you said you wanted to be a nurse to overcome your fear of hospitals," Steve murmured. She nodded, still smiling.

"I did," she said. "I just didn't get that extra push until I was actually in the hospital."

"When I was young, I wanted to be an artist," Steve said. He didn't know why he said it, but he had, and it was out there. Emma looked startled, and she reached out and put her hands on either side of his face. She knew that he liked to draw—he was always doodling on napkins, receipts, old files…if he had a pen and a piece of paper, he was going to draw. Several times in the past, he'd sketched her for fun, and she'd enjoyed posing for him. She didn't know much about art, but she thought he was good. Then again, anything he did, she'd think it was great.

"Why didn't you go through with it?" she asked. She needed the distraction right now. She didn't think she could talk about her parents just then. The shock was still too new, and she needed the time to fully process it. Right now, she just needed Steve to talk about anything, and if he so chose to talk about his past, she would urge him to open up to her as much as she could.

"Couldn't afford art school," Steve replied. "Then the war started, and I wanted to join up."

He kept his gaze focused on Emma as he spoke. He knew that she was trying to cling to anything as a distraction because that was her way of dealing with things. She'd finally gotten herself calm again, and she was using him to distract herself from the emotions that continued to linger within her. Her full lips were set in a slight pout, and her eyes were very lightly ringed with pink. She hadn't cried, but she'd been close, and he could tell from the little bit of swelling around her beautiful, stormy eyes.

"You're a good man, Steve," she whispered and skimmed her hands over his face. He fought the urge to close his eyes and give in to her touch—he wasn't the one who needed her support at the moment. She needed his, and he wanted to comfort her and soothe her the way that she often did for him.

"I'm not," he answered honestly. He opened his mouth to continue, but she brushed her hand over his lips to stop him. Curiously, he stared up at her and saw the tears building fast in her eyes. "Shhhh. It's ok, Em. It's ok, sweetheart."

And finally, she broke down in his arms, and she cried. She tucked her head against his chest, and she cried as she thought about her parents and how they'd been killed because of SHIELD. She cried over her collapsing universe, and Steve tucked her close into him and whispered to her how it was ok. He whispered how she was ok, and everything was ok, and even through her tears, she believed him. She believed him because she always did.

* * *

When Emma woke up the next morning, Steve wasn't beside her. This wasn't strange because he got up much earlier than she did. Rolling over to look at her clock, she saw that it was 7:30 in the morning. This meant that Steve had already gone on his run, gotten breakfast, come back, showered, and made coffee for the both of them. Silently, she got out of bed and dragged herself to the bathroom to shower. She leaned forward and turned the shower on. With each movement she made, her body felt numb.

When the water was hot, she climbed into the shower and scrubbed herself clean. Her movements were robotic and stiff, as if her body didn't quite belong to her. She was partially alarmed by this, but she knew that this was how her body reacted to shocking news. This had happened to her when she was 11 years old and had woken up to learn that her parents had been killed in that plane crash.

The plane crash. She couldn't remember very much about it. Even when the crash had been fresh, she hadn't been able to remember anything significant. Literally, one second she'd been sitting in her seat with a book on her lap, and the next second, there'd been a loud sound she'd never heard before, and she'd been flung forward. She remembered heat and pain, and then she'd blacked out. When she'd woken up, she'd had some minor burns and some broken bones, but for the most part, she'd gotten out of it alive. The doctors had told her how lucky she was. She was lucky.

She thought back to when she and Steve had been exploring New York for the first time together, and she'd escaped being harmed by the explosion of that old restaurant. She'd been lucky then, too. Luck seemed to follow her around, and she didn't know why. She'd survived a lot in her life, a life that she'd originally thought had been a 100% normal life, shaped by unusual circumstances.

But now she knew differently. She shut the water off and stepped out, picking her towel up and wrapping it around her. As she moved back into the bedroom to pick her clothes out for the day, she could really smell the strong scent of coffee that filled the apartment. Never failing, Steve was as reliable as ever.

A strong surge of emotion for him swelled through her solar plexus, and she swallowed hard. After choosing to wear mint green scrubs, she put them on and tossed her light hair over her shoulder, switching it to the other side so that it would dry properly. She continued her routine by putting on her make up and then walking out into the kitchen.

Today, Steve had John Mayer playing. He was seated on his usual stool at the island, and when he heard her come in, he looked up and eyed her cautiously. "Hey."

"Hey," she said back, crossing into the kitchen and immediately to him. Without hesitating, she placed her hands on his chest and kissed him full on the mouth. He responded, putting one broad, strong hand on the small of her back and deepening the kiss. She pulled back a little bit and rested her forehead against his.

"How are you?" Steve asked.

"I'm ok," she replied, her voice honest. She looked him straight in the eyes. "I…I know the truth now. And I can either fall apart over it, or I can accept it as it is."

Steve blinked, and his face softened. "You always continue to amaze me."

Her head jerked back a little bit, and she gave him a small, confused frown. "What? Why?"

"You found out that your parents were involved with SHIELD and purposely targeted by some jerk for a motive we haven't figured out yet, and you're handling it much better than anyone else would," he replied. She smiled back at him and shook her head, her expression sad.

"Last night I didn't accept things too well," she said. "Mild anxiety attack."

"Even so," Steve continued. "Emma, I promise you I'm going to find answers."

Her thumb lightly smoothed over his cheekbone, and she nodded, her eyes searching his. "Ok."

"I have to go in for training today. I'll see what I can find out while I'm there," he replied. Emma lifted her eyebrows slightly, and she gave him a knowing look.

"Are you sparring with Grace today?" she asked. "Is she still in town?"

"Yeah, she's staying a few extra days," Steve said vaguely, purposely avoiding her first question. Emma tilted her head and looked at him with a hard look on her face, refusing to let him skirt around her question. She knew he was avoiding answering it, and that confirmed her suspicions.

"You're sparring with her, aren't you?" she asked. Steve grinned guiltily at her and half-shrugged.

"Maybe," he said. Emma groaned and let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over her face.

"Steve, do you remember the last time you sparred with her?" she asked. Steve stared at her without saying anything, knowing exactly what she was referring to. "Baby, she nearly killed you."

"She didn't kill me," Steve flippantly corrected. "I just broke my wrist. But my cells regenerate so quickly that I barely had any recovery time."

Emma reluctantly pulled away from him and crossed over to the coffee pot, shooting him a sharp look over her shoulder as she opened a cabinet and pulled a mug down and started pouring some of the fresh, black liquid into the mug. "Whenever you and Grace spar—"

"She's the only one who really challenges me," Steve interrupted in a pleading tone. "All the other agents don't give me any challenges. But Grace does. There's a reason she's Level Nine."

"If you show up in my ER—"

"I know, I know, I know. I'll pay for it." Steve interrupted from behind her. She turned around to face him and found that he was standing directly behind her, a playful smile on his face. Even though her heart was breaking deep down with the news that had completely turned her world upside down, she could still find positivity with Steve. With him standing so close to her, his light blue eyes darkening at her proximity, she was able to find a little bit more inside her than just positivity. She innocently leaned back against the counter and kept her gaze on him.

"That's right," she said, her voice steady, even though her knees were weak. "You'll pay for it."

"I better be careful then," Steve replied. The look on his face made her breathless, and she nodded.

"I guess you should," she said. She took a tiny step forward, and with that tiny step, she closed the gap between them. Standing on tiptoe, she tilted her head upwards and leaned against his chest, her hands lightly landing on his hips. "Kiss me."

Steve didn't argue. He lowered his mouth to hers, and he kissed her deeply. He kissed her with all the emotions he'd kept inside him for the past 24 hours, and he accepted hers. She tasted of pain and shock, and he took as much of her pain as he could, swallowing it if it meant that it'd lessen the load on her heart. She hungrily kissed him and pressed the length of her body against his. Taking his cue off of her, he effortlessly lifted her up and set her on the counter without separating his mouth from hers. His lips moved from her mouth, leaving a trail of fire across her skin as he kissed downward along her jawline and towards her favorite spot on her neck. She happily sighed and threaded her fingers through his hair.

"Steve," she breathed. He closed his eyes at the sound of his name on her lips—he would never tire of hearing her say his name.

"I love you so much," he murmured against her neck, his hands pressing into the muscles of her back, feeling them tense as a shiver ran down her spine at the vibrations.

"This isn't fair," Emma sighed, repeating the words that she'd said only a few nights before, the same night Grace had appeared in their bedroom with a mission for Steve.

"Mmm?" Steve asked without removing his lips. Sighing, she placed her hands on his shoulders and gently applied pressure. Feeling her slight push on him, he immediately stopped and pulled back. His pale blue eyes were full of lust, and his lips were swollen in the best way possible.

"I have to go to work," Emma said regretfully, placing a hand on his face. "Dammit."

"Rain check," Steve said. He paused, his chest rising and lowering as he struggled to control his breathing and bring it back in check. "Did I use that phrase right?"

Emma smiled, the first real smile he'd seen from her in a number of hours, and he mentally sighed with relief to see that beautiful look on her face. "Yes. You used it correctly."

"Good." Steve's own face melted into a smile. He closed his eyes and sighed, leaning forward to kiss her one last time before opening the fridge to pull out the mint creamer Emma liked. He passed it to her and watched her pour it in her cooling cup of coffee. Glancing up at him, she shook her head.

"You really get me going, you know that?" she muttered. He grinned.

"Yeah?" he asked. She looked up again and smiled.

"Yeah."

* * *

Emma managed to get through the day pretty ok. Then again, of course, everything was relative. She just kept moving, reminding herself that she had things she needed to do, that there were people who needed her more than she needed herself. And so she kept a bright smile on her face whenever she treated her patients; she chatted with them and listened to them when they talked to her. She made sure to keep that personal connection with them, but even so, she wasn't quite there. Mentally, she was back home. She was wracking her brain for any kind of hints from when she was a kid that could've clued her in on the fact that her parents had been working for SHIELD.

Sometimes Thomas and Leah had had to leave for several days, and when that would happen, she'd go stay with her aunt and uncle and cousins. In a way, her visits with her aunt and uncle had almost been a kind of foreshadowing, a sign whispering in her ear to pay attention to how they went about their daily routines because she would someday be joining them.

No matter how much she went over her memories, she couldn't find anything in her past that gave away that Thomas and Leah had been wrapped into SHIELD. She remembered her mother's high heels and pencil skirt, her father's crisp dress pants and matching shoes. Their briefcases. She remembered their briefcases.

"Em, can you help me in Room—"

At the sound of Robin's voice, Emma jumped and dropped the vial she'd been holding in her hand. The vial fell to the floor and shattered, the sound loud and raucous in Emma's mind. Sighing, she pressed her hand to her forehead.

"Shit," she murmured.

"Shit, Em, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." Robin gave Emma an apologetic face and winced.

"No, no, you're fine. I'm a little off my game today. That one was on me," Emma replied tiredly. "Shit, I'm going to have to clean this up and fill out the paperwork."

"You know what, I can get Rachel or Alexa to come help me out," Robin said and flicked her pulled-back bangs out of her face again. "Hey, are you ok?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm cool. I'm fine," Emma replied with a smile. "Steve came home last night, and I guess I'm still stuck in last night."

Robin snickered. "You and the captain have all kinds of dirty welcome home sex?"

Emma rolled her eyes, but she grinned back at her dark-haired friend. "You've got a dirty mind."

"Hey, all I'm saying is that if I had those biceps coming home to me, I'd be fucking him six ways till Sunday." Robin winked at Emma, and Emma couldn't help but smile in return, laughing softly. "If you get done with cleaning this up and the paperwork, I'm down in Room 394. Projectile vomit. All over the place."

"Huh. I guess I'll take my time cleaning this up," Emma replied with a smirk. Robin grinned and flipped the blonde nurse off, leaving Emma to herself as she went to seek out some more of their coworkers to help her clean up said projectile vomiting.

Emma sighed out loud and stared down ruefully at the broken vial. She knew better than to let her mind get carried away. Accidents happened when you weren't fully focused on the job, and she'd slipped up and suffered consequences as a result of not being completely present. She just hoped that she wouldn't get called in to explain what had happened; honestly, there was nothing more she could say than to give the excuse that she'd just clumsily let it slip. The worst they could do to her was scold her and tell her not to let it happen again.

She couldn't wait until she was home. Today wasn't the right kind of day for her to be working. If she'd had her way, she would've been curled up in bed with a steaming bowl of macaroni and cheese from the Panera Bread down the street just then, not in the hospital cleaning up a vial of medicine that she'd broken because she'd been fucking stupid and let herself get distracted.

Steve was at Headquarters training and trying to get answers, and it was then that she decided that she didn't have to wait on him for answers—she could try to get her own answers, too.

* * *

"Emma? Is that you? Is everything ok?" Lacey Carroll's concerned voice filled Emma's ear. Emma ignored the slight pang of guilt that hit her in her solar plexus—her aunt sounded alarmed to hear from her because she so rarely called back home. If Lacey were using this as a guilt tactic, then she was on the right track, Emma thought to herself.

"Yeah, Aunt Lacey, it's me," she replied.

"Aren't you supposed to be at work? Are you ok? Did something happen?" Lacey asked with rapid-fire quickness. Emma grinned to herself as she numbered the questions on her free hand that wasn't holding the phone. Lacey frequently used the Three Question Interrogation Method, not stopping after each question to make sure that Emma answered them.

"I'm on break, Aunt Lacey," she said. "And yes, I'm fine. Everything's ok."

Lacey sighed deeply into the phone. "Thank God. You gave me a heart attack. See? That's how little you call here. When I see your name pop up, I think something horrible's happened."

"No, everything's totally fine," Emma lied between her teeth. "I just had a few questions for you real quick."

"Ok, sure. What can I help you with?" Lacey asked.

"Do you know exactly what my mom and dad did?" Emma asked as she made a conscious attempt to keep her voice innocent. "I mean, I know Dad was a pilot, and Mom was a navigator, but do you know _exactly_ what they did?"

"No, I don't. Tom didn't talk all that much about his job. He always said it was boring and not worth the time and energy to discuss it. Why?" Lacey asked, concern once again lacing her voice. Emma blinked, not sure how to cover.

"Oh, I was just curious. Steve was asking about what they did, and I realized that I actually didn't know all that much and was wondering if you did," she replied. Her voice was calm and cool, and she silently applauded herself on doing such a good job at keeping her cover.

"Steve? Are you guys coming up here soon?" Lacey asked hopefully. "Alex told me you called him the other day."

"Yeah, I did. I didn't get to catch up with him as much as I would've liked. He told me Laura's been sick, and he was taking care of her," Emma replied.

"He told me the same thing, too. I think she was feeling better last time I talked to him. Went back to work today, I think. So are you bringing Steve home anytime soon?"

"Maybe. He was just wanting to know what Mom and Dad did. He knows more about planes and stuff like that, so I was just curious if you had any idea. If maybe Dad had told you a bit about the company he worked for." Emma was fishing, but she hoped she didn't sound like she was.

"Delta. He worked for Delta. I remember that," Lacey offered. Emma mentally sighed, and she closed her eyes. Either Lacey had no idea about SHIELD, or she was still holding up the cover strong.

"Hey, remember how SHIELD approached me when I was still in college?" Emma asked casually.

"Yeah, I do," Lacey replied.

"Do you have any idea why they did?" she asked.

"What? They saw your grades, of course. Honey, they're a government agency. They're going to be scouring the colleges for good students that they can hire. I don't believe all that shit where they say they don't monitor stuff like that. I definitely believe they keep a close eye on it, and you happened to catch their eye," Lacey said. Again, Emma suppressed the urge to sigh. She'd forgotten how much Lacey loved conspiracy theories. She knew that realistically, Lacey didn't believe them, but Lacey sure as hell loved reading about them. Funny how she'd forgotten that about her aunt until just now, Emma thought. A dull ache for home hit her in her chest, and she closed her eyes again.

"I wasn't number one of my class, though, Aunt Lacey," she protested. "I was high up. I was number 13 or so, but I wasn't the very top."

"They probably saw that you had good character, so they contacted you. Emma, honey, I don't know. I'm not SHIELD. I don't know what they look for," Lacey replied. "But I do know that you should fight them for more time off."

"Maybe I _should_ call you more often so I don't have to get the lecture every time I talk to you," Emma said jokingly. Lacey laughed, and Emma could picture her aunt shaking her head.

"There's that Carroll sass. I've been missing that part of you, kiddo," her aunt said.

"Yeah, me too," Emma quietly answered.

"We Carroll women don't go down easily. Remember that. When Mason proposed to me, I made it very clear to him that I wasn't going to change my last name, and I knew that he was the right man because he accepted," Lacey said, her voice becoming softer as she became nostalgic. "When Steve proposes to you, it's your choice to take his last name or keep yours. You don't _have _to become a Rogers."

Emma literally pulled back from the phone and stared at it for a brief second before putting it back up to her ear. "Aunt Lacey, you don't know if he's going to propose to me. Jesus…"

"Honey, I watch the news. I pick up the magazines and see the pictures of you two in Celebrity Watch. The way that boy looks at you…no doubt in my mind," Lacey sighed happily. Emma ran a hand over her face, and this time she didn't hold back on her frustrated sigh.

"Oh, my God. Aunt Lacey," she said.

"Don't get embarrassed. Look, Alex and Laura talk about getting engaged all the time. They've been together for years. You and Steve have been together for years, but I swear to God, if you two get engaged before he comes here and meets all of us—"

"We won't get engaged before that happens. He'll…we'll come visit you soon. Soon, I promise," Emma said tiredly, suddenly feeling exhaustion flood her entire body and settle into her bones. She leaned back in the chair she was sitting in in the nurses' lounge as if she didn't have the energy to support herself.

"Alex said you were possibly coming for Christmas this year," Lacey pointed out.

"Yes, we might. It'd be nice if we could get up there sooner, but I can't promise anything. Hey, I have to go. My break's almost over, and I still need to finish up some paperwork before I start the next part of my shift. If you remember anything about what Mom and Dad, will you call me?" Emma asked.

"Of course. I'll think and see if I can remember anything. Even if I don't remember something, make sure you call me soon. Ok? Do you hear me, Emma Lane Carroll?" Lacey asked sternly. Emma smiled, remembering all the times in high school that Lacey had had to use her full name, even though she hadn't had to use it that often with her.

"I hear you. Love you."

"Love you, too. I'll talk to you soon."

Emma hung up and stared at the phone, loudly heaving a sigh. She was back at square one.


	6. Crack

**Shoutouts to stuffoflegends, mrstomdaley1996, and MsRose91 for reviewing!**

**IMPORTANT: This story is now M-rated. So yes, there is a sex scene in here, and it is explicit. You have been warned.**

**The rewritten Chapter 11 of _Healing Touch _has been posted, so if you're going back and rereading it for the new changes, just giving y'all a heads up. Ultimately, my goal is to be completely done rewriting it by this weekend, but that's optimistic thinking. However, if it's not done by Friday, it will be finished over the weekend since I'll be having a quiet few days in to get caught up on my writing.**

**This chapter is pretty intense. We've got some fluff, some smut, and some serious conversations. As always, let me know your thoughts, particularly on the addition of the smut. In case y'all didn't pick up, this story is definitely a lead-in to _The Winter Soldier_. A lot of what happens in here will be tying into _The Winter Soldier_, so keep that in mind.**

**So, yes. Let me know what you think!**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 6

"Your karate's gotten a lot better." Grace wiped her glistening forehead, chest heaving, as she grinned at Steve. He smiled back at her, though the gesture wasn't genuine.

"Thanks," he replied and lifted his water bottle to his lips, tilting his head back to gratefully swallow the cool liquid. He closed his eyes and eagerly drank. There was nothing like having cold water after a good fight. Even though he was still a bit mad at Grace for having purposely withheld the information about Emma's parents, he had to admit that they'd just had a good round.

Grace was trained in every fighting style there was. At first, Steve hadn't been sure that that was possible until she'd come at him, and he'd had no choice but to fight back. Grace might have been the closest friend he had in the modern world, but she didn't fuck around when it came to sparring—she was out to win, and she wasn't all that remorseful if she drew some blood. Sure, she did feel bad once she came down out of survival mode, but even then, she was pretty blasé about it, not that Steve minded. He preferred someone who wasn't afraid to hurt him because he loved the challenge, loved feeling himself improve and become more skillful. And Grace was the only one who could provide him with that improvement. All of the other agents were nervous about sparring with him, and they never gave him that extra challenge that she did.

"You still mad at me?" Grace lowered her own water bottle that she'd been drinking from, and she curiously appraised the Super Soldier in front of her. She could read people better than she could read one of her goddamn textbooks, but some people she could read much easier than others. Tony was one of them. Steve was another. And she could tell from the way he moved—even the way he drank out of his damn water bottle—that Steve was still pissed.

"Just a little," Steve answered.

"Ok," Grace answered. Steve paused and looked over at her, his water bottle halfway to his lips.

"That was easy," he remarked, lifting his eyebrows. Grace regarded him calmly, and she shrugged in response.

"I don't blame you for being mad," she said. "If you'd kept important information about something that affected Tony away from me, I'd be pissed as hell. You're not as mad as I would've thought, so I'm glad for that."

"More than anything, I'm worried," Steve admitted. "There are a lot of answers that are being kept a secret. Why did Marsden kill himself? He seemed pretty intent on fighting us when he was on the phone with me. Why did he target Em's parents when they weren't even agents? Why'd he target _anyone_ that he did? It doesn't make sense."

"You're right. It doesn't," Grace said. "It's been bugging me, too. I've accessed all the files I could, and nada. Dead end."

"What do you mean?" Steve asked curiously, giving Grace a harder, longer look.

"I used my Level Nine privilege," she answered with a smirk. "I dug into every file I could find that seemed even _remotely_ related to Marsden or Emma's parents. Absolutely nothing. Looks like the only files SHIELD has on them are the ones I showed you."

"That seems almost impossible," Steve murmured under his breath, more to himself than to her. He knew that SHIELD was an organization that had its fingers in all kinds of dishes—they knew all kinds of details about everyone. The files that Grace had given him that detailed the mission hadn't been, well, detailed. They'd just given a basic overview, leaving Steve feeling almost more insulted than informed.

"You're telling me," Grace replied. "I haven't seen a file that vague since I was Level Three."

"They sent you on missions when you were Level Three?" Steve asked. She smirked and nodded, as though the answer were obvious.

"Hell yeah. They needed me. Why else do you think I was bumped up so quickly?" she asked. "I'm damn good at what I do, and they needed someone with my particular set of skills."

"Survival skills," Steve said, supplying the information for her. She nodded in a conceding manner.

"When you get down to the basics of it," she said. "My body and my brain are pretty fucking determined to keep me alive, no matter the cost."

"I can see," Steve drily answered. He caught a flash of annoyance pass over her face, and she folded her arms.

"I can make it up to you," she said. Steve paused, and he frowned, gazing at her with his light blue eyes.

"What?" he asked. Grace took a swig of her water and leaned against the cushioned wall of the training room.

"I said, I can make it up to you," she said. "You're pissed at me. I can make you unpissed."

"How?" Steve asked. Grace snorted, looking slightly offended.

"You have such little faith in me," she said blithely. "In my digging around, I found out some information that I thought you'd be interested in. Maybe."

"What is it?" Steve asked. Grace stared hard at him, her amber eyes searching over his entire face as if she were looking for a specific reaction and just couldn't find it.

"Peggy Carter's in a special nursing home here in D.C.," she said finally. Steve froze. Peggy. He hadn't thought about her for longer than a second in a very long time. As he allowed the information to process, he pictured her as she had looked so many years ago. He'd seen pictures of her since, but the way he remembered her best was how he'd known her.

"She is?" he found himself asking. Grace nodded once.

"Yep. You should pay her a visit," she said. Steve was silent for a few seconds. Peggy Carter was nearby. Peggy Carter. He blinked slowly, and then he frowned at Grace.

"You're telling me I should go visit someone I used to want to be with when I have a girlfriend," he repeated carefully out loud. Grace nodded once again.

"You got it, man," she said.

"Why?" he asked, his eyebrows drawing in together more tightly to form an even deeper frown.

"Steve, you and Emma have been together for about three years now. And you've been living together, what, two years? Something like that. Anyway, you love her, right? You love Emma?" Grace questioned. Steve's lips pressed into a firm line, and he nodded hard.

"Of course. Of course I do," he replied.

"So you don't think any of your weird commitment issues come from this whole Peggy thing?" Grace pushed. Steve folded his arms over his chest, mirroring Grace's stance, and he stared at her in disbelief.

"Commitment issues? What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, his tone taking on an angry edge. "I'm certain I don't have any commitment issues."

"Let's see. You're 95 years old, living with your girlfriend of three years, and you haven't made any moves in your relationship since you guys moved in together. You really don't think you're not having any residual Peggy problems?" Grace asked in disbelief. Steve was silent. When Grace put it like that, he sounded ridiculous. His relationship with Peggy had never been a relationship—back then, he'd very much wanted a relationship with the fiery agent, but now, he knew he never wanted to be with anyone but Emma. He'd never loved Peggy. He'd always had the potential to, but he'd never gotten around to it. But with Emma, he loved her. He loved her fully and unconditionally, and when he tried to picture his life without her, it was simply impossible for him because he just couldn't separate the thought of her from his life.

And yet Grace's words ran true with him in a very unpleasant way. He thought of how Emma loved to dance and how she'd always tried to get him to dance with her at the honorary balls they'd gone to. Each time he'd turned her down. Grace and Tony had been out on the floor having a good time, and even Natasha and Clint had made an appearance on the dance floor. Dr. Banner always declined the invitations, and Thor was usually too busy up in Asgard to ever come back to Earth, so it had just been Steve and Emma that had stayed seated at their table.

He remembered how he'd told Peggy that he'd been waiting for the right partner. Well, without a doubt in his mind, Emma was that right partner. She was right for him in every way, shape, and form. She was always patient with him whenever he didn't understand any modern references, she was funny and wasn't afraid to laugh at her own jokes, she was assertive and didn't let people walk all over her—she was everything Steve ever could have wanted. Emma was his right partner.

He just couldn't get himself to dance.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered under his breath.

"Come on, I was trying to make you less mad at me, not _more_ mad at me," Grace protested, her face slightly forming a frown. "Steve, I'm trying to help you. I just thought you'd want to know about Peggy. She's close."

Steve didn't want to ask for the information. He wanted to let it go. He wanted to accept that Peggy was nearby and not feel the need to go see her. But he looked up, he looked Grace straight in the eye, and he asked, "Where?"

* * *

"—so when I realized that it was useless, there wasn't anything me and Daniels could do but shoot and run. Wound up getting a thigh shot because of it, but hey, it was a good night." Agent Simmers grinned at Emma, who was sitting in the chair by his bedside, and he laughed as she blew out a breath between her lips and gazed at him with lifted eyebrows.

"Every time I think I get bored of this life, remind me that I'm actually thrilled with it," she replied in response to his story about one of his most recent missions. "I think I get enough excitement as it is but wind up taking it for granted."

"I'm sure your boy goes on tougher missions than that. He's Captain America," Simmers said lightly with a teasing smile. Emma shrugged half-heartedly.

"He doesn't tell me about his missions," she said. "I mean, sometimes he does, but he totally G-rates it because he knows I worry about him. I think he also only tells the parts that he's allowed to. Which isn't a lot at all."

"He's a good guy," Simmers replied.

"Have you met him?" Emma looked at the agent with newfound interest. He gave her an odd smile and shook his head.

"No, but you learn enough about him in history classes growing up, so you kind of feel like you do. He's America's hero. The hero for the little people, you know?" Simmers answered. He leaned his head back against his pillow, suddenly looking tired from all this talk. Emma smiled softly at him and nodded as she processed what he'd said.

"Yeah," she replied. "He's got a beautiful heart."

"You do, too, Miss Carroll. You sit in here and listen to me talk about my missions—shit, you even listened to me ramble on and on about the damn farm I grew up on. Not many people are willing to do that. You and Cap are members of a rare species." Simmers closed his eyes, the pain meds having kicked in by now, and Emma took that as her cue to leave. Quickly checking over him once more to make sure that he was comfortable, she silently stood up and slipped out of the room, Simmers's words playing over and over on repeat inside her head.

* * *

When Emma got off her shift, she ran by the local bakery on her way home. Training days meant that Steve was often too tired to cook when he got home, and since Emma considered her cooking to be pretty shitty, it was just an all around smarter idea to pick up something and bring it back. She got to the apartment and eyed the remaining cardboard boxes that they'd neatly tucked into the corner of the living room to unpack whenever they got around it. Every day she told herself she'd get to unpacking it, and yet it was still there.

Ignoring it, she walked to the kitchen and set the large carryout bag on the counter, placing the two Styrofoam bowls of soup in the microwave to keep warm until Steve got back. Not only did training days mean a meal out, training days meant that Steve's arrival time was unpredictable. Sometimes he was at SHIELD all day and most of the night, and sometimes he was only there until 5:00 in the afternoon. It all depended on what he was working on and how well he thought he'd done that day. If it were a bad day, Steve would be there far later than he would have had it been a good day.

Emma glanced at the clock and decided she would do her customary wait until 9:00 before giving into her hunger and eating without him. Until then, she figured, sighing as she felt the cardboard boxes in the living room calling her name, she might as well finish unpacking. She turned around and glared distastefully at the boxes, and then she sighed.

"Might as well change first," she mumbled out loud to herself. Walking to the iHome in the kitchen, she scrolled through her playlists before choosing Mumford & Sons. Ever since Steve had had them playing that Saturday morning, she'd been on a bit of Mumford kick. Once she had the music up and blaring loudly, she turned over her shoulder and went to the bedroom to change into casual leggings and a loose, flowy tank top. Almost immediately, she felt better. Her scrubs weren't uncomfortable, but she was just so much happier whenever she was in just leggings and a t-shirt or leggings and one of her tank tops.

She walked back into the living room and pulled the top box down as she seated herself on the floor and got to unpacking. Usually, waiting for Steve to come back from training when there was good, hot food sitting in the kitchen just dying to be devoured was difficult, and it seemed like it took forever. But once Emma got her mind set on something, and she started working on a task, time flew for her.

The box was full of framed pictures, anyway, and unpacking those was actually fun. She and Steve didn't have too many pictures together, but the ones they had were worth keeping out. One of Emma's favorites had been taken back in New York, and she and Steve had double-dated with her old friend Felicia and her new boyfriend. They'd wound up going to Central Park and walking around, and Felicia had wound up snapping a candid of Steve slinging his arm over Emma's shoulders and the two of them laughing at something. Emma loved the picture because she felt it represented their relationship perfectly. Everyone always thought of Captain Steve Rogers as being so serious and straight-faced, but really, he had a goofy side to him that she loved and wouldn't trade for the world. They spent a lot of their relationship laughing together, and that picture captured it truer than any other picture did, she felt.

She was so busy unwrapping the pictures and looking at each and every one that she didn't hear the front door open, nor did she hear Mumford & Sons' "After the Storm" change to Doris Day's "Dream a Little Dream of Me." Suddenly, arms wrapped around her waist, and she jumped, gasping out loud in surprise.

"I scare you?" Steve's voice rumbled in her ear, and she let out a relieved laugh, leaning back into him as he tucked his face into her hair. She ran a hand over her face to hide the light flush that was beginning to color her cheeks and nodded.

"Yeah, you did," she said. "I didn't even hear you come in. Did you change my music?"

"Mmhmmm," Steve answered. He waited for her to complain about it, but she didn't, instead relaxing even further in his arms. He knew she wouldn't have anything bad to say about the song for a good reason: they'd declared "Dream a Little Dream of Me" as their song about a year or so ago because it was a good compromise between their time periods. The song had been out back in Steve's time, but the Doris Day version hadn't been recorded until the '50s, so it was a little modern. Relatively. It also made Steve think of Emma every time he heard it, so it was impossible for him to separate her from the song.

"How's my best girl?" he asked.

"Good. Tired. Hungry," she replied. "I called my aunt today to see if she knew anything about my parents working for SHIELD. Either she has no clue, or she's acting like she doesn't."

"Grace has been looking around for information, and she wasn't able to find anything, either," Steve replied. Emma swallowed and put her hands on Steve's forearms as they overlapped across her torso.

"Secrets, secrets are no fun unless you share with everyone," she quoted. She sighed out loud and leaned her head back against Steve's shoulder. "What do we do now? What's our next move?"

"Keep digging," Steve answered. "There have to be answers somewhere. SHIELD's got all kinds of secrets, and I don't believe that no one's in the know about what happened there."

"Ok," she said. "My aunt and uncle have some of my stuff and my parents' stuff back home. Maybe something's there. I don't know."

"You'd go home to look?" Steve asked curiously, knowing how she was about going back home to Connecticut. She hesitated for a brief moment, and then she nodded.

"Yeah, I would," she said. "Something's not sitting quite right with me about this whole thing. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it today. All this time, and I had no idea. No clue at all."

Steve heard the sadness in her voice, and he pulled her closer to him, her back pressing firmly against his chest. Emma glanced down at his forearms and gently rubbed her hands over them.

"Also haven't been able to stop thinking about these," she said suggestively. She felt Steve grin back against her ear.

"No fooling?" Steve teasingly asked, his lips skimming through her hair.

"Not fooling at all," Emma seriously replied. She reached behind her with one hand and placed it on the back of his head, twisting her upper body so that she could kiss him full on the mouth. As always, she felt that familiar sensation of butterflies in her stomach as she kissed him, her mouth open and accepting and eager. Responding to her kiss, Steve loosened his arms from around her waist and let her completely turn around to face him. He craved her touch the second her hands left him to readjust herself, but he didn't have to wait long for the feel of her hands on him again; within seconds, she was straddling him, her body nestled comfortably against him.

He wrapped his arms around her, his large palms encompassing her back, and he felt his skin grow warm as the emotions they'd held back came pouring loose. This was exactly what it was like to be drunk, he thought in the back of his head. This was what it was like to be completely intoxicated. His tongue skimmed against the edge of Emma's full lips, and a chill ran down his spine as she threaded her fingers through his hair, tightening them slightly. Steve's hands slipped up her tank top, and he slid them up her body. Her skin was so smooth beneath his fingers; he needed her so badly, needed to be inside her, to feel her warm, bare skin beneath him. He felt himself harden even more as he effectively pushed the tank top up and over her head and tossed it to the floor. She was still more dressed than she was undressed, but just the sight of her took his breath away. He paused for a second as he allowed himself to take in the soft curves of her body in the dimly lit apartment. The light from the kitchen and from the lamp on the table nearby illuminated Emma from strange, different angles, but Steve couldn't help thinking that even in a half-lit room, she was still the brightest, most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Without wasting another second, he leaned forward and kissed her bare collarbone. She stilled when his warm, slightly damp lips met the thin skin that covered the curve of her bone, and she closed her eyes; Steve knew the exact things to do to get her to react the way he wanted. He was a quick learner, and he'd learned very quickly from the start how to get her ramped up. Moving her hands between them, she began working on the button at the waistband of his jeans. She cast a quick glance down towards his face as it lingered by her collar, and she caught him closing his eyes, his jaw tensed; she smiled, knowing that she was getting just the reactions she wanted from him, too.

"I missed you," she whispered thickly, her mouth brushing his temple. At her words, he tilted his head up and looked at her. His beautiful blue eyes searched her face with an unfamiliar, almost desperate expression behind them, a look that Emma had never seen there before. She frowned slightly, and she went to ask him what was wrong, but he cut her off by placing his hand on the back of her neck and pulling her mouth down to his to kiss her hard.

"I missed you, too," he murmured back against her lips. In one smooth, fluid motion, he wrapped one arm around her lower back and eased her onto her back so that she was beneath him. She watched, eyes wide, as he easily slipped his t-shirt over his head and tossed it to the side. He had looked worried only a few seconds ago, but now he looked nothing short of needing her. She knew as she looked at him that he needed her just as much as she needed him in that moment. Her throat was dry with how badly she needed him, how badly she wanted him. Her body ached to feel his, and she couldn't communicate that feeling to him through words, so she didn't even try. Instead, she quickly shimmied out of her leggings as he pushed his jeans off. In seconds, he had moved back to her, placing his body above her as he settled between her open thighs.

Just like magic, Steve's skin came alive when Emma placed her hands on him. Unable to help his reaction, he sighed into her mouth and closed his eyes at the feel of her palms running over his chest, his biceps, his ribs. Sometimes it overwhelmed him how strongly he reacted to her; he'd never experienced anything like it before in his life. This…_need_. This desire that overcame him. The calm that she always brought while simultaneously igniting a fire inside him. He loved her so much it was almost physically painful in the best way possible-it was a pain he would take any day because it was the only kind of pain he couldn't live without.

"Emma," he groaned as his lips left her mouth and began to trail hotly down her neck. He slipped one hand underneath her, and with one easy flick, he unhooked her bra. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her bright smile light up her entire face. Admittedly, when they'd first started having sex, it'd taken Steve a while to fully figure out bras and how they hooked and unhooked, but once he'd finally gotten the hang of it, he was a master at undoing them. He smiled back at her, and he kissed the rising swell of her breasts as he completely removed her bra and tossed it to the side to join the rest of their clothes in No Man's Land.

He felt her hand move between them again, and he let out a soft groan as she grasped him where he longed for her touch the most. At the sound of his quiet vocalization, Emma's heart rate started to pick up even more. If there weren't music in the background, she was convinced that Steve would've been able to hear her heart thumping inside her chest. She loved the quiet, gentle sounds he made during sex, as if he were almost afraid of being too loud or too vocal about the pleasure he received, and it simultaneously melted Emma's heart and turned her on whenever he made any kind of sound of pleasure. And so when she heard him, her blood went hot with desire. She needed him—God, she needed him inside her, and he couldn't be inside of her soon enough. Hurriedly, she slid her thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and pushed down to eliminate whatever physical barriers remained between them. Steve took the hint, and he finished removing his boxers before quickly pulling her own underwear down and eliminating that barrier, as well.

As he lowered himself down between her thighs again, he couldn't help but marvel at the feel of her skin all around him. They were completely bared to each other, and he still wasn't sure if this were enough—he could never get enough of her. His mouth returned to that sweet spot on her collarbone as he slid his hand up her thigh. She was so beautiful—so damn beautiful, he thought to himself, sliding two fingers inside her. At the feeling, Emma closed her eyes, and Steve pulled back enough just to see her reaction, to see how she responded to what he did to her. He knew he would never find anything more wonderful and more beautiful than watching her face relax and open up the way it did to him just then. He kissed her and removed his fingers, positioning himself just right.

Emma opened her eyes as he pulled away, already missing the sensations he'd been giving her, but she saw what he was doing, and she swallowed hard in anticipation, wrapping her arms around his torso and resting her hands on his back. With one smooth, solid push, he was inside her. Emma let out her own quiet moan; instinctively, her hips tilted upwards, and she arched her back, allowing her body to adjust to having him inside her.

Carefully, he pulled back and then pushed inside her again, watching her face for any kind of reaction to pain. He was always extra careful when he first entered her for fear of hurting her. One of the things he was most afraid of was forgetting his own strength and as a result, putting Emma in pain. Hurting her was the last thing in the entire world he wanted to do, and he was never anything but conscious of how he handled her. He watched her with open eyes as he began to move more firmly, thrusting into her with an easier confidence now that he was sure she was feeling nothing but pleasure from him. Another moan released from the back of his throat, quiet and sensual, making Emma even more responsive to the man moving above her.

Her hands tightened their grip around his shoulder blades, her fingernails slightly digging into his back, but Steve didn't feel any pain from it. It took a lot to physically hurt the Super Soldier, and besides, he loved that he was able to make her react in such a way. If he gave her half the amount of pleasure that she was giving him, he knew he was doing ok for himself. God, the feeling of being inside her, of moving within her body was indescribable, the kind of feeling he would never be able to put down in words. Tilting his head downwards, he kissed her neck, his nose brushing against her hair and catching a scent of her shampoo. She was all around him. Her skin, her touch, her sounds…he heard her breath catch in the back of her throat. He brushed his tongue over the skin of her neck, and she gasped out loud. When she exhaled, a moan rolled out from between her lips and into his ear.

Steve kissed her, hungrily swallowing whatever sounds he could get from her. He could feel that familiar pressure signifying his orgasm building up behind his hips. His thrusts were deep and strong, and Emma felt so damn good around him. He reached one hand down to her knee and pushed it open the slightest bit, allowing him deeper access. Almost immediately, Emma arched her back even more as he penetrated her farther and hit the spot right where he was intending to.

"Ah…yes," she moaned, pressing her mouth to his collarbone, mirroring where he'd placed his lips only moments before as she kissed him. With each stroke, he was bringing her closer and closer to her own much-needed orgasm. They'd both gone into this knowing that they wouldn't last long—they both had had all kinds of emotions that they'd needed to release with each other, and they weren't going to hold back. Steve was reaching that place inside her, stretching her, and she tilted her hips forward to get whatever she could from him.

The change in angle was all she needed. When Steve thrust into her again, a burst of pleasure ran from between her legs, its heat spreading out throughout her body and seeping into her muscles. As she hit her climax, she grasped him close to her, needing to close the gap of physical distance between them.

"Oh…Steve!" she cried out, her voice a mixture of a gasp and a call all at once. Steve gritted his teeth as he felt her tighten around him, and he was unable to hold back anymore. With one hard thrust, he came inside her, calling out her name and pressing her to him, just as desperate to be as close to her as she wanted to be to him. He lost control over all of his senses as he lost himself in both the physical sensations and the flood of emotion that came over him.

"Emma," he whispered her name, breathing hard, as softly and reverently as if he were whispering a prayer. His chest swelled at the thought of her and how much he loved her and needed her in his life. Emma Carroll had saved his life when he'd woken up; he'd believed it then, and he believed it now. His blue eyes shut, he felt her hands move over his chest and up to gently take hold of his face. When he opened his eyes and looked at her, he saw that her own eyes had darkened to their typical grey the way they always did whenever they were filled with lust, and her face was soft and open in all the ways he loved best as he forced his eyes to focus on her.

"I love you," he said quietly. His voice was a low rumble—it always deepened the slightest bit whenever he was turned on or was coming down from an orgasm, and to Emma, it was one of her favorite sounds. She tilted her head up, and she kissed him, her response written across her lips without needing to verbalize it. Her pulse was beginning to slow, and the feeling started to come back into her legs. Carefully, Steve pulled out of her, kissing her sweetly on the lips one last time before turning over his shoulder to hunt for her clothes. Neither of them said anything as they began to move, acclimating themselves to what it was like to be inside their bodies again.

Slowly but surely, the feeling started to return to them as they silently but comfortably found their clothes. Steve found her tank top by the coffee table and tossed it to her as she tossed him his boxers from the other side of the coffee table. He would never get used to how clothes seemed to just appear in the strangest, most nonsensical places, he thought, catching his boxers with an amused smile. He pulled on his boxers and began to put on his jeans. While he was bent over, shoving his legs into the legs of his jeans, Emma passed by him to go to the bathroom, and she affectionately and tenderly brushed her hand over the back of his head. As he looked up, he caught the last bit of her as she exited down the hall, and he shook his head to himself as he saw her fully dressed; she was a master at finding her clothes and getting all neatly back in one piece in under a minute.

Eventually, Steve located his shirt, and he pulled it over his head as he walked into the kitchen. His pulse was still evening out, and he had finally regained control of his breathing again. He noticed the carryout bag from the bakery around the corner on the counter and smiled. Steady and reliable as ever, Emma had gone out and gotten dinner since today had been a training day. He usually did the cooking and didn't mind it since he'd been used to getting by on his own like that before he'd been frozen for 70+ years, but whenever he trained, he was just too damn tired to cook. Opening the microwave, he found the bowls of soup inside and pulled them out so he could pour the soup into real bowls. Emma was perfectly ok to eat out of Styrofoam, but Steve liked _real _bowls—he hadn't had Styrofoam cups and bowls back in the 1940s, so to him, they weren't real cups and bowls, no matter how much Emma protested that they were.

Behind him, he heard Emma walk back into the room as he pulled out two bowls from the cabinet above him, and he turned to look at her, a grin on his face as he did so. Her ponytail was halfway undone, but even so, she looked beautiful to him. Her eyes darted to the bowls, and she shot him a semi-scolding look, though her expression was more amused than anything, her post-orgasm glow leaving her looking relaxed and languid.

"Always with the bowls," she sighed playfully, and she placed a hand on his lower back as she approached him by the counter. He glanced at her, his grin widening.

"There's no reason we can't eat out of real bowls," he said. "Styrofoam is 98% air, anyway. Who wants to eat out of air when you can eat out of a bowl?"

"Someone's been doing his research," Emma murmured, and she leaned her head against his arm as he reached up with his free hand to put first one bowl, and then the other into the microwave to heat back up. She watched him punch in a minute and a half and then press Start, surprised to feel a small swell of pride in her chest. She remembered back to when he'd first woken up, and he'd had no idea at all how to handle the simplest technology. Well, for her they'd been simple; for him, they'd been complicated. But sure enough, with just the right amount of patience, he'd gotten a hang of it all, and no one ever would've been able to guess that he'd grown up in a house without a bit of all of this tech.

Steve turned towards her, his face soft as he looked down at her. Without warning, in the back of his head, he heard Grace's voice telling him he had commitment issues he needed to get over. He blinked unhappily, and he tried to push the thought out of his head. The last thing he wanted to think about after having just had sex with Emma was Grace's words from earlier that day telling him that he still had Peggy issues he needed to sort out. Swallowing, his blue eyes scanned over Emma's face, as if he were looking for the answer within her grey-green eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked, frowning a little bit as she looked back up at him. Steve blinked again; it shouldn't have surprised him that she would pick up on any worry he was feeling. She always seemed to know. He stared at her, unsure of what to say. "Steve?"

"Do you think I have commitment issues?" he asked out loud, a frown drawing his eyebrows together. An amused smile came over Emma's face, and she shook her head in confusion.

"What? No," she said with a light laugh. "Why?"

"Grace," he replied.

"Grace? She say you have commitment issues or something?" Emma asked incredulously, her confused frown deepening. Steve nodded, and he looked away. With perfect timing, the timer for the microwave went off just then, and he redirected his gaze towards it, looking at it as if it had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world to him. "Why'd she say that?"

"She told me that Peggy's at a nursing home here in D.C., and she thinks I should go see her," Steve said. The words came out in a rush before he could stop himself. He knew that if he took the time to reassess how to say them, he wouldn't say them at all, so he just let himself speak. Emma paused, and he felt her arm slacken the slightest bit around him.

"What?" she asked, sounding more confused than anything else. She stared up at Steve, and she took her arm away from him as she leaned her hip against the counter.

"Grace thinks I have commitment issues to you because I haven't made peace with…with Peggy, and she thinks I should go see Peggy to get over them," Steve said slowly. He turned his head and looked at her. Emma folded her arms over her chest, though the gesture wasn't defiant in the slightest. In a way, Steve wished that it _had_ been in anger because the way she did it made it look as though she were protecting a vulnerable part of her that she were afraid he would hurt if she left it open for him. Her mouth twisted to the side, her eyes studying him hard.

"What do _you_ think?" she asked calmly.

"I don't think I have any commitment issues," he honestly replied. She was quiet for a few more seconds, and she nodded slowly, processing over the information.

"Do you want to go see Peggy?" she asked, and she hated herself for asking it. She hated herself for feeling the tiniest bit of jealousy for this woman from Steve's past. She believed him enough to know that he and Peggy had never been an official thing; he'd told her he'd had a huge crush on her and had kissed her, but that was as far as their relationship had gone. Emma really did believe him. She did. But deep down, she couldn't help the tiny flame of fear that began to burn in her chest. Peggy had a part of Steve that she would never be able to share with him: his past.

She swallowed hard to keep her emotions down. _Breathe_, she told herself. _Just breathe._ She kept her eyes calmly focused on Steve's face, and she tried not to feel like a possessive idiot. She didn't have any doubt in her mind that Steve loved her and wanted to be with her, but still. The thought of Steve going to see Peggy left a bad taste in her mouth that she didn't want there.

"I don't know," Steve finally answered. Emma blinked, and then she slowly nodded just once; she didn't know what she'd been expecting him to say. She hadn't expected him to say no because, well, like it or not, Peggy _was_ a part of his past. But then again, she hadn't expected him to say yes. His "I don't know" left her just as strung out as either one of the other choices would have, and she didn't know how to react.

"Ok," she said. Her mouth seemed to be in control of her words, not her brain. Silence passed between them as they both looked at each other, unsure of where they stood. It didn't escape Steve's notice that Emma's arms seemed to tighten across her chest, and it killed him to see her so apprehensive towards him. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he knew that she'd only shut down even more on him if he did that.

"You know I love you, right?" he said finally. "Emma, you're everything to me."

She gave him a small smile, and she reached out and touched his face, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone. Her hand lingered for a few extra seconds as she nodded, her face unreadable very much the way that Grace Marks's was.

"Yeah," she said. "I know."

But when Steve opened the microwave and pulled out their bowls of soup, he couldn't help but notice that she didn't seem to have much to say throughout their dinner together. She responded the right way, and she smiled and reacted the way she was supposed to whenever he told her about something that had happened during his day, and she may have thought that she was effectively fooling him, but Steve knew her. And when her smile didn't light up her face the way it always did, he knew that he'd created a crack that he wasn't sure he knew how to fix.


	7. Potential

**Shoutouts to Lilybear3121, thecruelworldwelivein, mrstomdaley1996, stuffoflegends, and MsRose91 for reviewing! That's the most reviews I've gotten on a chapter for this story!**

**Alright, now we're starting to get into the heat of things. Since Emma and Steve are on a bit of a Mumford & Sons kick, if you want to experience 10x the emotions, listen to their song "Awake My Soul" while reading, particularly at the end of the chapter =)**

**Things are really starting to be set up for _The Winter Soldier_, and I'm super excited to write that story because I have soooooo many ideas and ways to incorporate Emma into it!**

**How do you think Emma's going to handle what happens at the end of this chapter? Heh heh! As always, let me know your thoughts and opinions. I absolutely love hearing from you guys. Lets me know what I'm doing right and wrong!**

**Also, if you're rereading _Healing Touch_, the rewritten Chapters 12 and 13 have been reposted!**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 7

Emma usually stayed in bed as long as she could. She wasn't a morning person the way that Steve was, so whenever he quietly got up and silently got dressed to go on his typical early morning run, she would always go back to sleep to make the most of however many hours she had left before she had to wake up. After Steve had dropped the news about Peggy Carter, Emma had spent the rest of the night simply going through the motions of her nightly routine. She'd finished dinner with Steve, helped clean up and wash the dishes, and gotten ready for bed, finishing up with reading a chapter of her book right before turning the lights off. She'd completed all of these tasks by speaking to Steve only when she'd needed to and responding appropriately whenever he'd spoken to her.

When Steve got up at his customary 5:00 A.M., Emma only lingered in bed for an hour before getting up. Technically, she didn't have to wake up until 7:00 A.M., but she got up early, and she showered, and she fixed herself breakfast. She didn't stay in bed because she knew she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep; in fact, she hadn't slept all night. She'd thought and thought and thought some more, nearly running herself dry with it all.

Steve wanted to go see Peggy. Of course, he hadn't come straight out and said it, but he wouldn't have even brought the subject up if he didn't want to. There was also the fact that he hadn't denied it. Emma couldn't deny that it was a complicated situation for her Super Soldier to be in; everything he'd left behind in 1945 remained in the form of Peggy Carter—everything his life had been was left with her because she was the last piece of his old life that was still alive.

Emma didn't particularly consider herself a jealous person; she trusted Steve, and she believed that he'd had nothing more with Peggy other than an innocent flirtation. However, Emma was human, and she would've been lying had she said that she didn't mind Steve's going to see Peggy. She knew that she was being irrational, but she couldn't help being afraid that by reconnecting with his past, Steve would realize that Emma couldn't share in those memories with him, that she somehow fell short of what he'd originally wanted. What if Steve remembered that, at one time, he'd wanted something else for himself, and that something didn't include her in it?

Frustrated, Emma slammed her cup of coffee down on the counter top, and she put one hand over her face. _Breathe_, she told herself. _Breathe. You're overthinking things. Stop._ Sighing, she lowered her hand and looked down at her coffee; it was 6:45, and she was already on her third cup, something that was unusual even for her. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she quickly checked the time, seeing that it was 6:45. That was around the time Steve was back from his run, and he would have picked up breakfast for either the both of them or just for her.

She picked up her coffee and walked to the iHome in the kitchen. In her hand, her mug trembled the slightest bit, a sign that she should slow down on the coffee for a few hours, but she carefully lifted it to her lips and took a small sip as she scrolled through some music to listen to. She was still on a Mumford kick, but she didn't feel as though she could handle Mumford & Sons when they always reminded her so much of Steve and how much he loved the band.

"They're poetry," he'd said when she'd asked him why he liked them so much one time. "The words are pure poetry. That's difficult to find."

She picked Ed Sheeran and turned the volume up before crossing into the living room and falling back onto the couch, closing her eyes as she did so. It was only a matter of minutes before Steve came back—he was reliable like clockwork in his routines. And sure enough, right as she was wondering where exactly he was in relation to their apartment, she heard the door unlock and push open, his footsteps quietly padding into their small space of the world together.

"Em?" His voice was laced with surprise; he'd definitely expected her to still be sleeping for another 15 minutes or so. He was usually able to come back, take a quick shower, and get the coffee going before she woke up. She turned her head and looked over at him from her spot on the couch.

"Oh, hey," she said. "I got up a little early."

Steve crossed into the kitchen and turned the volume down on the music so he could hear her a little better. She watched him, his skin glistening with sweat from his run and his muscles looking extra-large in his tight t-shirt, as he set the bag from their favorite bakery on the counter and then crossed into the living room. He was careful not to sit on anything because he was sweaty, but he stood in front of her and looked curiously at her.

"I don't think I've seen you up before 7:00 ever," he said in a playful tone. She laughed, and she smiled at him, but he could see that she wasn't really into it at all.

"I'm going in to work early," she replied. He frowned.

"You are?" he asked in surprise.

"Yeah," she replied and looked down at the mug in her hands in such a way that made Steve wonder if she were purposely avoiding looking at him.

"Emma, are you—"

"I'm fine, Steve," she interrupted with that same smile on her face. "I just have a lot of stuff I need to do at the hospital."

"Alright," Steve replied, but he wasn't convinced.

"What's your task for today?" Emma asked, and she turned her gaze back up to him. Her sea-colored eyes were darker than usual, Steve noticed, and they only did that whenever she was turned on or upset about something. Steven Grant Rogers was not a stupid man, so he immediately dismissed the first option.

"I'm going into SHIELD to take a gander at the possible options for that special team Fury wanted to put together," he answered with a slightly displeased expression crossing his face. "I'm also going to see if I can smoke out anything on your parents' case. I doubt I'll find anything right off the bat, but someone _has_ to know something."

"Ok," Emma said. He waited for her to say more, but she didn't. Instead, she looked down at her mug again and took a long swallow of it. Steve swallowed hard; he knew she was upset, but she was trying hard not to be, and it was all his fault. Crossing towards her, he sat directly across from her on the edge of the coffee table and looked at her. She still wouldn't look up, and she lifted her cup to her lips again. Frowning, he noticed her hands slightly shaking.

"What number is that?" he asked. Finally, she looked up, her expression somewhat confused.

"What?" she asked.

"Cup of coffee. What number is that?" he repeated.

"Oh. Three, I think," she answered. She studied his face and saw a curtain of guilt drop over his sky blue eyes. Even when he was sweaty, he was gorgeous, though she didn't want to admit it. Though truthfully, she couldn't think of anything that Steve did where he _wasn't_ gorgeous.

"Come here," he said softly. Emma blinked, and then she moved forward to the edge of the couch, staring at him in confusion. He grinned at her and half-shrugged. "Sorry. I know I'm a bit sweaty."

"It's ok," Emma answered, still watching him carefully. Gently, he placed his hands on either side of her face, and he kissed her. Steve had gently kissed Emma thousands—most likely_ millions _of times in the past, but there was something about the way he did it now that made Emma want to cry. Her chest swelled with the pain she'd been trying to keep covered, and she stayed as still as she possibly could. If she moved, she had the strangest feeling that she actually would cry. Steve ended the kiss but kept his hands lightly framing her face as he pulled back and gazed at her.

"I should shower," he said quietly. She nodded her head and forced a smile on her face.

"I should go," she replied just as quietly. Steve thought about all the things he wanted to tell her at that moment because he knew she wasn't ok, but he couldn't bring himself to. Talking about it would mean that he would have to acknowledge that things weren't ok between them, and he wasn't sure that he were ready for that just yet. Maybe if they could pretend that last night's conversation hadn't happened, they could just forget it'd happened, though in all reality, Steve knew that that wasn't going to happen. But he didn't bring it up. Not yet. He simply leaned forward and kissed her chastely.

"I love you." His voice was like a warm caress, and Emma smiled at him as he slowly pulled away. However, before he could get too far, she grabbed his arm and pulled him back down to her, kissing him softly one last time.

"I love you, Steve," she said, shying away from his full name. If Steve noticed, it though, he didn't show it because he kissed her tenderly on the forehead before turning and walking to the bedroom to shower. As soon as he was gone, she felt a quiet hollowness in her chest that she hadn't quite expected, and she stood up and walked to the kitchen. She grabbed her bag from the foot of the coat rack beside the door, and she started to walk out to work before she stopped. Turning over her shoulder and crossing back one last time into the kitchen, she put on Mumford & Sons, and then she walked out the door.

* * *

Steve looked at all the profiles in front of him, and he glanced up at Director Nicholas Fury, who was carefully watching the blond Super Soldier pick out a team. Steve checked in with the two women seated on either side of him. Agents Natasha Romanoff and Grace Marks both looked bored and uninterested in what was happening, though Natasha was doing a better job of trying to fake it than Grace was.

Grace had a bit of a tendency to push her luck with Fury. Once he'd admitted to her that she was really too valuable for him to fire, she was always trying to test the boundaries. Steve felt as though Tony Stark's influence were partially to blame for her constant pushes.

"I want them," Steve said, pushing forward the profiles on Fury's desk. Fury glanced down at them and then back up at the strange assortment of agents in front of him. Technically, this little counter-terrorism STRIKE team he'd come up with had turned into a mini-Avengers crew. Right in front of him were three Avengers, and none of them seemed to be particularly thrilled about this whole STRIKE thing; then again, he reasoned to himself, they hadn't been particularly thrilled about the Chitauri invasion, either.

"You sure, Captain?" he asked. Steve stared back at him with an almost annoyed look, and he nodded. Fury had to check his grin; anyone who thought that Captain America was full of sweet, sunny smiles didn't actually know the guy, he thought. Captain Rogers definitely had a streak of sass in him—maybe that was why he got along so well with both Grace and Natasha.

"I think it's a good, strong team," Natasha spoke up.

"Me, too," Grace added. "You've got some hella good agents here. Rumlow? He's excellent."

"I thought you hated Rumlow," Natasha said with a frown.

"Oh, I still hate Rumlow, but I can admit that he's good," Grace replied, shrugging. Natasha shrugged back in response. "Steve, don't look at me like that. I can work with him on a team. I'm more professional than you give me credit for."

"Why are _we_ here?" Natasha redirected her attention back to Fury. She gestured with her hand towards Steve. "I get why Methuselah's here, but why us?"

"I second the question," Grace interjected, raising her pointer finger in the air.

"You three will be the highest-level agents on this team," Fury said. "Rogers, technically, you're running this whole show, but Marks, Romanoff, you'll be his main back up."

"Aren't I an alternate?" Grace asked in a blasé tone, her face unchanging as ever. "If we're getting technical, that is. I'm not even going to be running regular missions. Like always, no one's going to call me in unless it's super hardcore."

"Then fine. If we're getting technical, _technically_, you'll be called in for only the most high-risk missions," Fury confirmed as he suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the amber-eyed, stony-faced agent. "We have other things for you to do while STRIKE is doing their thing."

"Oo, that sounds fun," Grace said cheerfully, and she smiled brightly.

"How soon can we all start training together?" Steve asked, bringing the conversation back to the task at hand. "If we're going to be a team, we need to have team-building training sessions."

"You can start as soon as you want to, Captain," Fury replied. "This is mainly going to be your little operation. I'm just picking out what missions you all take."

Steve nodded. "Alright. Is that all?"

"Yes, that's all. You're dismissed. Romanoff, can I see you for a second?" Fury asked. Natasha gave Grace a small smile as both she and Steve got up and walked out of Fury's office, Grace closing the door behind them.

"What's your plan now?" Grace asked once the door was fully shut. Steve began walking down the hall, Grace following him.

"I'm going to go stop by the hospital. Surprise Emma," he replied.

"Oh, that's sweet," Grace genuinely answered, not teasing him for once. "I'm sure she'll enjoy showing you off to her friends."

"Not everyone likes to flaunt their relationship," Steve said back with a cheeky grin on his face. Grace rolled her amber eyes guiltily.

"Sometimes I think you're right about the whole me-being-around-Tony too much," she admitted with a sigh. "But that's beside the point. So what have you decided about the Peggy thing?" Steve looked sharply at her. "Shit, I'm sorry. Was I not supposed to ask about that? Am I overstepping boundaries?"

"Why are you so invested in my relationship again?" Steve asked in a mild tone.

"You deserve to be happy," Grace answered simply. Steve stopped walking, and he looked at her, eyes squinted. She didn't seem to be surprised that he'd stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the hall, and she turned her calm gaze on him.

"Thanks for waiting up." Natasha's dry voice came floating down the hall, and both Grace and Steve looked back towards the redheaded agent as she approached them.

"That didn't take long," Steve remarked.

"Fury's to the point," Natasha answered. She looked back and forth between her teammates. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No, you're not," Steve said before Grace could try to fill the Russian agent in on this whole Emma/Peggy thing that he'd rather not get into. Grace knowing all of this about his life was enough as it was; he definitely did not want to bring Natasha into it, too.

"What do you say to a team lunch?" Natasha asked cheerfully, her green eyes glinting in the light that streamed in through the glass windows. "Looks like most of us are back on board again."

"Count me halfway out of it," Grace protested with a snort. "I'm only coming in when I have to."

"You're still a part of the team, you shit," Natasha replied, smirking at her. She looked up at Steve and nudged him with her elbow. "What do you say? Lunch?"

"Not this time," Steve replied. "I'm going to check in on Emma over at the hospital."

"So, Steve…tell me: is it weird dating someone who's young enough to be your great-granddaughter?" Natasha asked, grinning at him. Grace half-expected him to get annoyed with the Russian agent, but instead, he smiled and shook his head as though he didn't know what to do with her.

"Funny," he said. "I'll see you ladies around. Enjoy your lunch."

"Give Em a hug for me," Grace said. She turned and smirked at Natasha. "Looks like it's just you and me again. Just like old times."

"Minus the blood, hopefully."

"Yeah, minus the blood."

Steve turned and waved over his shoulder one last time as he walked out of the hall. By now, he was used to the stares that he received at Headquarters. It was a strange experience for him—the stares weren't that strange. Back in the 1940s, he'd gotten lots of stares since he'd been, well, Captain America. He'd been the hometown hero who'd seemingly come out of nowhere and ended the war. But now it was different. People stared at him because he was Captain America, the man out of time. At first, he'd felt self-conscious about it, but now he barely noticed the looks he got.

Once he reached the doors of the building, he went to the garage to find his trusty old motorcycle. He remembered back to when he'd received his first SHIELD paycheck and had made the decision to buy it; Emma had been surprisingly supportive, and he remembered how she'd laughed when he'd asked her why she wasn't giving him a lecture about safety.

"You're Captain America," she'd said, amusement coloring her face beautifully. "If you can survive fighting Nazis and aliens, then I think you can survive riding a motorcycle."

If he hadn't been convinced that Emma was the one for him, he'd been convinced in that moment.

Though in all actuality, it hadn't taken Steve much convincing at all to know that Emma was the one. To some degree, he felt like he'd known it ever since he'd woken up in the hospital to her sunny smile and hurricane eyes. He'd never once doubted that he belonged with her. With Emma, the entire world felt right. And yet it seemed that after last night, he'd somehow made the entire world feel wrong.

* * *

"She's a fucking bitch is what she is," Robin mumbled angrily over her burritos. "God, I don't get how my parents don't see it."

"I thought you had fun with her this past weekend," Emma argued. Robin nodded reluctantly, half-rolling her eyes.

"I mean, we did have fun. Don't get me wrong. But Jesus, when she doesn't get her way, she's a fucking bitch. That's what happens when you're the youngest. My parents feel bad for her and think they didn't spend enough time with her, so they give her whatever she wants now," the dark-haired nurse replied.

"It was the total opposite in my house," Emma said, and she leaned forward and rested her elbows on the tabletop. "My aunt and uncle spent a lot of time with my younger cousin because he was a lot more introverted than my older two cousins were, so they were the ones who didn't get as much attention." She paused and tilted her head thoughtfully. "You know, you and my one cousin Evan would probably get along well."

"Really?" Robin's eyes brightened slightly. "Well, let me know whenever he comes down for a visit, and we can double. Steve knows what a double-date is, right?"

Emma laughed and shook her head in disbelief. "Yes, he does! They had double-dates back in the '40s, Robin. Even if he didn't, we double now."

"Yeah? With who?" Robin asked with interest.

"Tony Stark and Grace Marks. Remember, Steve's really good friends with Grace," Emma pointed out. Robin snapped her fingers and nodded as she remembered.

"That's right. I've seen some rumors spreading around the mags about how you, Steve, Grace, and Tony are in some kind of bizarre love triangle, but I've always thought it was bullshit," she said. Emma laughed again, though this time it was a hearty, fully appreciative, 100% genuine laugh that made her muscles relax and her mood lighten.

"Oh, God, yeah, there's no truth to any of those rumors," she said. "Seriously, Steve and Grace are just really close. They understand each other since they have the whole Serum thing in common, and they've bonded a lot over it. Personally, I'm totally cool with their friendship because I think they both need that kind of friendship and understanding in their lives, but Tony, on the other hand, hates that Steve and Grace are close."

"Really? I would've thought with Steve having been like, one of his dad's good friends back in the day, he would've been more receptive to him. Besides, I don't think that man's capable of cheating on you," Robin pointed out. Emma smiled thinly, and she looked down at her quesadilla before picking up her knife and fork. She started to cut into it as Robin also began eating her food.

The hospital cafeteria wasn't home to the world's greatest food, but the food wasn't completely terrible. At least they tried to have variety, Emma thought. She glanced at the time on her cell phone—she and Robin had decided to take their lunch break later than usual, and they still had about 45 minutes left. Emma was counting down the hours until yoga that night; every Wednesday night she faithfully went to her evening yoga class, and today she needed it much more than she usually did.

"You ok?" Robin asked suddenly. Emma blinked, and she looked at the brunette in front of her.

"Yeah, why?" she asked.

"You seem spacey and extra quiet today. Everything cool with you?" Robin took a large bite of her burrito.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Emma lied through her teeth. She glanced up, and in that moment, she froze as her eyes landed on someone she hadn't expected to see there today. Robin noticed Emma's expression and frowned, turning around to see what she was looking at.

"Oh," she said faintly when her eyes landed on Steve. "Oh, that's a better view than we usually get at lunch."

"Yeah," Emma replied in a confused voice. "It is."

Steve was wearing the navy blue baseball cap she'd gotten him shortly after the Battle of New York since that was when people really started recognizing him. He had the brim pulled down low over his face, but even then, it was pretty obvious that he was Steve Rogers; not many other people in the world had a body type the way he did. He was scanning the cafeteria, clearly looking for her, and then he spotted her. A big smile split across his face, and he walked towards the two women.

"What's he doing here? Is he joining us for lunch?" Robin asked. Emma shrugged helplessly and stared at Steve in bewilderment.

"I—I don't know," she answered. "He's supposed to be at Headquarters today. Not here."

"Hi." Steve sat in the chair next to Emma and reached out to gently smooth his hand over her hair as he kissed her on the temple. He turned his gaze towards Robin, and he nodded respectfully to her. "Hi, ma'am."

"Hi, Captain Rogers," Robin replied, an amused grin lighting up her face.

"What are you doing here?" Emma asked, hoping she didn't sound attacking but rather more confused than anything. "I thought you were supposed to be at Headquarters most all day today."

"Fury was relatively easy to deal with today, so I got done sooner than I'd originally thought," Steve said by way of explanation. "I thought I'd stop in. See how you're doing. How's your day been?"

"It's been fine," Emma carefully replied as she thought back to the day. Her rounds had gone relatively smoothly; the only really bad thing that had happened was an agent who had died shortly after having been brought in after a gunshot had gone through his heart. "How'd your meeting go? Did you figure out who you want on the team?"

"The meeting was fine," Steve said. "Grace and Natasha are on the team."

"That doesn't surprise me. Anything badass, they get those two involved," Emma replied with a smirk. For a few seconds, she could forget that Steve wanted to go visit his former flame, and she could lose herself in how much he loved her and wanted to check in on her—things felt normal again, the shift from last night completely gone.

"So weird that you guys just casually reference them like that," Robin muttered in slight amazement from across the table. "I'm still like…you guys know the Avengers." She paused and looked at Steve. "You _are_ the Avengers."

Emma was unable to hide her grin as she watched the brunette nurse give Steve a quick onceover and swallow; Steve always had women eyeing him up and down, and even though Robin had been around him several times—though very briefly—she still stared.

Steve looked down at the tabletop and smiled. "All in a day's work, ma'am."

"'Ma'am,'" Robin sighed happily. "You don't hear that one much more these days."

"I told her that if I can get Evan down here, we can all double," Emma suggested. "He's my—"

"Your second oldest cousin," Steve finished, grinning at her surprised face. "Don't look surprised. I remember everything you tell me about yourself."

"I don't know if you guys make me want to vomit or photograph you," Robin interjected as she took another bite from her burrito. Impulsively, Steve gently took Emma's hand in his and intertwined his fingers with her, giving her hand a soft squeeze as he leaned over and kissed her temple again. Emma paused as she looked down at their clasped hands. Steve wasn't that big on PDA, a fact that Emma was ok with because she'd never been all that into PDA, either, but he was being much more public than he usually was, especially with someone he didn't know that well sitting nearby watching them.

She could've sat there and sat there all day pondering why Steve was being extra affectionate, but she didn't need to because she already knew. He knew she was upset, and he was trying to make things better; he was trying to let her know that he loved her. The thing was, Emma didn't doubt it—she really didn't. She knew that Steve loved her. However, she also knew that he wanted to see Peggy, and seeing that reminder of his past could remind him that he'd once been happier in a time when he'd felt more comfortable.

"I should probably skip on out of here. Let you ladies finish." Steve stood up, still holding onto her hand, and then he let go of it with a reluctant expression on his face. "I'll see you later tonight."

"Yeah, I'll see you later." Emma stared up at him with an unreadable expression—why did all the women in his life have the unreadable expression perfected, he thought to himself—and then she smiled. With her smile in his mind, Steve turned and stared walking out of the cafeteria with his head tucked downwards to avoid others recognizing him, and he wondered just how far open that crack he'd created last night would spread.

Emma watched him walk away, her face still a mixture of confused, pleased, surprised, and unsure. He was so tall and strong when he walked—even though he'd tilted his head downwards so that the brim of his baseball cap hid the features of his face, he walked with the stance of a confident man. His confidence was one of the things Emma loved most about him, though she often had trouble figuring out what she loved most of all because she loved so much when it came to him.

She'd seen enough documentaries throughout her lifetime to know that before Steve had received his Serum, he'd been skinny and scrawny. What little pictures and videos that existed of him pre-Serum showed a somewhat self-conscious, sickly-looking young man. The thing that had always struck her, particularly now that she knew him and was kind of sort of very in love with him, was that his self-consciousness didn't come from thinking that he wasn't enough in the _person_ sense—his self-consciousness stemmed from the fact that he hadn't thought he was enough _physically_.

She knew that, regardless of his size and physicality, she would've loved his heart.

"Are you guys always like that with each other?" Robin asked, her voice impressed.

"Uh, more or less," Emma vaguely answered. Robin didn't know her well enough yet to know that Emma had been relatively closed-off from Steve, and in that moment, Emma had an acute sense of missing home. She suddenly missed her cousins and her aunt and her uncle more than she had in a very long time.

"Goddammit, you're so fucking lucky," Robin reproachfully grumbled. "The rest of us have to go on terrible first dates, experience terrible sex, and terrible breakups, and you get to have amazing dates, amazing sex, and a nonexistent breakup."

"Whoa there, did I ever say anything about any of that?" Emma asked, grinning as if she had a secret that she wasn't going to reveal. Robin smoothed her hand over her hair and gave Emma a bored look.

"Seriously? I just sat here and watched the two of you melt all over each other. And you honestly cannot tell me that that man does not give you the best fucking orgasms of your life," she said seriously. Emma laughed out loud, her second honest laugh of the day.

"I confess to absolutely nothing," she said.

"Yeah, I bet," Robin replied and lifted her dark eyebrows. "I mean, do you guys even fight?"

"Yeah, we fight," Emma said defensively. "You can't live with someone for two years—Jesus, you can't even _date _someone for one year without getting into a fight."

"So what do you fight about then?" Robin questioned, genuinely interested. Emma wrinkled her nose and tilted her head slightly to the side as she thought. Her blonde ponytail fell over her shoulder, brushing against her ear.

"I don't know," she said. "Sometimes we have some cultural differences between the 1940s and now, and we've had some spats over that, but I guess nothing too bad."

Robin snorted, and she leaned back in her chair, pointing at Emma with her burrito instead of her finger. "The two of you? You've got the real shit. The shit everyone else wishes they had. You're lucky, Emma. You're both really, _really_ lucky to have each other."

And Emma was quiet because she didn't know how she could possibly respond.

* * *

During yoga, Emma reached her calm, cool, collected center; yoga helped her make contact with herself, and sometimes that was a good thing, and sometimes that was a fucking awful thing. After that night's session of yoga, she still wasn't entirely sure how she felt about anything. She'd definitely reached that place within her that she'd been avoiding for the past 24 hours or so, but as soon as she'd touched it, she'd pushed it down even further. She didn't feel as though she were ready to deal with it just yet, so she made the conscious decision not to. Instead, she'd focused on focusing herself and keeping calm, and that was exactly how she felt: calm. In fact, she felt better than she had in the past week; yoga cleansed her in a way that nothing else could.

She walked through the doorway of the apartment building and stood by the elevator as she waited for it to come down and take her upstairs to the modest place she and Steve shared. While she waited, she flipped her phone open and looked at it. There was a missed call from Evan, and she made the mental note to call him back as soon as she got up to the apartment. Word had probably spread throughout the family that she'd talked to both Alex and Lacey within the past week, and Evan wanted his share of the Emma updates since they rarely heard from her.

The elevator doors opened up, and she stepped inside.

* * *

Steve had lost track of time. Since Emma went straight to yoga after work, he'd had plenty of time to look at Peggy's file. He didn't want to go visit her, but yet, he did. He wanted to go make up for lost time; even just talking with her about how she'd experienced the world and had grown and changed with it would've been useful for him. They didn't have to get into details; they didn't have to talk about love and all the things they could've been because to him, that was all insignificant now. To him, the only "could've been" he wanted to experience was a "will be" with Emma.

But he knew that if he went to talk to Peggy, conversations would come up, and they'd have to deal with it at some point. Peggy never let things go like that; she'd always been such a strong, forward woman, and that'd been one of the very things that had attracted him to her.

Steve had looked over Peggy's file in the past—hell, that was how he and Emma had officially ended up together; Emma had screwed up, and she'd made it up to him by retrieving Peggy's records and then giving them to him. He'd read what had happened to Peggy before, but this time he paid attention. He _really_ paid attention and scrutinized over the black and white lines and the transition of black and white photos to color photos the way he would if he were going to talk to someone about how that person's life had turned out. Which was technically what he wanted to do.

He'd spent so much time looking up Peggy's involvement with SHIELD, her connections with Howard Stark, and how the rest of her life had turned out that he didn't hear the front door opening until it was too late. His head shot up, and he saw Emma walking in, her yoga mat thrown over her shoulder and her blonde hair pulled back into a French braid. One of Steve's favorite hairstyles on her was a French braid—there was something about the way her hair was pulled back from her face that he loved, and he paused in his panic to appreciate how lovely she looked, even in yoga clothes.

She had that zen look about her that she always had whenever she was back from yoga, and Steve instantly felt the guilt hit him hard in the gut. Emma was completely centered and calm, and he was about to screw it up again. Sure enough, she crossed into the kitchen after she'd set her things down.

"Hi," she said. She walked towards him and pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Hi," he replied. He tried to cover the look of surprise on his face, but he knew he'd failed when she tilted her head to the side and looked down at the spread out papers in front of him.

"What's that?" she asked. He didn't reply because she leaned forward and looked at the papers. She was quiet, and he saw the way her shoulders seemed to sink downward, as if all the energy had melted out of them.

"Emma…" His voice trailed off.

"What?" she asked. Her question wasn't an accusation, but it was quiet and muted in her voice. She looked back up at him, her stormy eyes full of an emotion he couldn't quite identify because he'd never seen it on her before.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"You don't have to apologize," she replied calmly, nothing in her tone implying that she wasn't being genuine.

"I know—"

"Steve." Her voice was firm, but it was quiet, and he stopped speaking. "You don't have to apologize. If you want to go see Peggy, go see Peggy. If you need closure…"

"Emma, it's not that," Steve protested, but as soon as the protest had left his lips, he saw that it was the worst possible thing he could've said. Emma blinked at him with hurt and confusion coloring her face.

"Then if it's not that, why do you want to go see her?" she asked evenly.

"I…I don't know. She was a good friend." He paused. "She's the last link I have to my past."

"Steve…" It was Emma's turn to let her voice trail off, and she sighed, putting a hand up to her eyes the way she always did whenever she was stressed. "I'm sorry. I'm…I'm sorry."

"Em—"

"I need—I need to go shower. I'm…I'm tired, and…I'm sorry—it's been a long day."

"Emma—" He tried to stop her, but she was gone before he could even get up to turn her around to face him. Down the hall, the door of the bedroom shut with a quiet but firm click, and Steve was left with just an empty room and the files of a woman he'd had the potential to love while the room down the hall was occupied with the woman he loved and would always love but currently had the potential to lose.


	8. Homecoming

**Shoutouts to MsRose91, KD Skywalker, Lilybear3121, stuffoflegends, thecruelworldwelivein, and LilyHiddleston96 for reviewing! You guys are amazing.**

**Alright, things are heating up even more. The plot thickens! It's about time that they got some stuff sorted out. Ish. **

**As always, let me know your thoughts!**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 8

Over the next few days, the crack in Steve and Emma's relationship began to widen.

Emma went from lying in bed asleep when Steve came back from his morning run to not being in the apartment at all by the time he returned. Steve stopped listening to Mumford & Sons and went back to only listening to 1940s music, something he did whenever he was stressed about something. Both of them started making their own meals and watching their own shows. From Wednesday night to Sunday evening, the change between Emma Carroll and Steve Rogers was so subtle yet so quick all at the same time that neither of them knew what to do.

Of course, they were both aware of it. Ever since Emma had walked in on Steve looking at Peggy's files, that was all either of them had been able to think about. Steve had tried to talk to Emma about it when she'd gotten out of the shower, but she'd been pretty adamant about putting it off until another time.

"I'm sorry. It was a long day at the hospital, and we lost an agent, and I'm not…I'm tired," she'd said, looking up at him as he stood in the doorway to the bedroom, and she sat on their bed. Her hair was wet and hanging around her make up-free face; she looked fresh and clean, and Steve wanted nothing more than to walk over to her and bury his face in the warm skin of her neck. He wanted to hold her and breathe in the fresh smell of her after her shower while he made love to her in their bed.

"Ok," he'd said.

"I'm probably going to head to sleep now. It was…a long day," Emma had lamely said, and Steve had simply nodded and left it at that, quietly turning over his shoulder and walking back to the kitchen to put the files away. It felt wrong to continue looking at them. Since then, they hadn't spoken about the incident.

So on Sunday evening, when Steve was alone in the apartment, he was surprised to hear his cell phone ring, only to look down and see that it was Emma calling. She'd left the apartment earlier that morning, and he hadn't asked her where she was going because he figured she needed her space still. Even though they were still technically on speaking terms, he hadn't expected her to call and tell him what she was doing or where she was going. Steve frowned at his cell phone, but he dragged his thumb across the screen and put it up to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Steve?" Emma's voice filled his ear, and in the background, he heard the low rumble that a crowd of people made whenever they were all together in one space. His frown deepened, and he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as his attention sharpened. Concern began to swell inside his chest. Emma liked to go on walks, but she rarely went on walks where it would be crowded. She was the kind of person who liked quiet, tranquil moments to herself, so she couldn't be in a store or one of the tourist attractions downtown.

"Honey, where are you?" he asked without bothering to hide the concern he was feeling as it seeped out and over into his voice. The endearment slipped out of his mouth before he'd realized it, and even once he'd registered what he'd just said, he didn't really feel like he should take it back.

"I'm at the airport."

Steve was silent.

"Steve?"

She was at the airport. Why would Emma be at the airport?

"Steve, are you there?"

"Yeah." Steve pulled his thoughts together. "Yeah, I'm still here. Why—Em, why are you at the airport?"

"I'm going home to Connecticut for a few days. I've been missing my family. Thought it was time to go see them. Drop in and say hey."

Silence.

"Emma."

"Steve…go see Peggy. Ok? Go see her." Emma's voice was gentle and calming, and Steve squeezed his eyes shut as a feeling akin to panic began to fill his solar plexus. He had to consciously tell himself to inhale and exhale because he felt that if he didn't, he would simply stop breathing.

"Emma."

"I'm coming home soon. I promise. I just…I need to see my family. It's been a long time, and all of this with my parents happening…I need to go home. I already called into the hospital, and I'm using some of my sick leave for this, so…I'll be home in a few days. Ok?"

What Steve didn't know was that Emma was sitting in the airport at the correct gate with one hand covering her eyes as she struggled not to cry over the phone to him. Everything she wanted to say was brimming deep down beneath her skin, but she knew that if she started trying to express to him how exactly she felt—how she'd been feeling for the past week, more or less—she would actually start crying right then and there in the middle of the airport.

"Ok." Steve's mouth moved for his brain, speaking the words he hadn't even been able to think.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

He waited for her to hang up, but she didn't. Neither of them seemed to want to be the first to press the End button on their individual screens, thereby severing the most meaningful connection they'd had in days. For the time being, Steve was happy to sit there and just listen to her breathe.

"Steve, I love you."

"I love you. I love you a lot."

"I'll call you when I'm there."

"Ok. Have a safe flight."

"Ok. Good night."

"Good night." Steve hung up the phone, and he looked around his apartment as he realized that for the very first time since he'd woken up from the ice, he was alone.

* * *

Emma had made the decision to fly home to Connecticut in a roundabout way. She hadn't woken up that morning with the thought to leave on a whim without giving Steve any warning. Quite literally, the idea had hit her when she'd been out doing something she knew she shouldn't have been doing, and she'd run with it.

Emma had been at the Air & Space Museum.

She'd gotten up early with the intention of going to look at Steve's exhibit not because she wanted to learn more about him but because she wanted to learn more about Peggy Carter. So she'd gotten up and taken the Metro into the Mall, and she'd walked right on into the museum and into the exhibit.

She wanted to take the time to explore the entire exhibit, she was there on a mission. Quickly skimming over the walls, she reached the section that she was looking for. The exhibit was set up chronologically, following Steve throughout his childhood and adolescence until SSR had chosen him to be their Super Soldier. Emma paused as she approached the portion of the exhibit, her unusual grey-green eyes scanning over the pieces of information in front of her.

She slowly walked along until she saw Peggy Carter's face staring back at her. There were videos of Peggy talking about Steve, how Steve had wound up saving the man she would later marry, how Steve had been such a good, noble person, and so on and so on. Emma watched each and every one as she tried to familiarize herself with a woman Steve had once known.

Peggy was gorgeous, that was for sure. She was British and had great hair and perfect make up, and Emma couldn't help thinking that Steve had had good taste to go for a woman like her. He liked women who weren't afraid to stand up for themselves, and Peggy Carter definitely came across as the kind of woman who would stand up for herself in a heartbeat.

"We knew immediately that he was the right person we wanted. He stood out from the other men in a good way…he had a good heart. He was concerned with doing the right thing, not about killing Nazis because he could. He…he just wanted to do what was right," Peggy said in the video, her dark eyes swimming with memories and emotions mingling together. Emma studied the small smile Peggy offered the interviewer, and she recognized the way Peggy made the gesture as though to make it appear as if she were ok because she really wasn't ok.

Off behind her, there was a video playing with familiar audio. Surprised, Emma turned over her shoulder and saw someone watching the video of her talking about Steve in modern times. Emma blinked in surprise.

"That's really my voice?" she mumbled under her breath to herself, and she crossed towards the playing video, being careful to stand a non-suspicious distance away from the person who was watching it.

"—year, so when SHIELD came to me and told me they were assigning me to be Steve's nurse, I was…shocked, to say the least. I'd always heard about Captain America growing up—I mean, who hasn't? Captain America is one of the most talked about American historical figures, so you can't really grow up here and _not_ know who Steve Rogers is. Anyway, I was his nurse for a month while he was unconscious. In that time, I was in charge of his IVs, his hygiene, keeping him warm and comfortable until he woke up…everything." Screen Emma smiled brightly at the camera.

Real life Emma smiled back at her screen image. She remembered giving that interview. Steve had teased her all day about how much she'd smiled all throughout it, but then at the end of the day, he'd kissed her and told her he loved her smile and loved that she smiled so much. Blinking, Emma realized that she was just standing there staring at the image of herself but wasn't really listening anymore. She ran a hand over the back of her baseball cap and started to move until she heard Screen Emma speak again.

"Originally, I'm from Connecticut—"

"—Steve was changing my life—" Behind her, Peggy's voice was overlapping.

"—three cousins and my aunt and uncle—"

"—he was a hero. He always will be—"

"—he's part of my family now. He…he's home for me—"

"—I think about him every day—"

"—he's the best thing that ever could've happened to me—"

"—I probably always will—"

Emma couldn't take it any longer. Between Screen Emma and Peggy Carter talking, her brain was on overload, and she simply couldn't fucking take it anymore, and she started to walk quickly away from everyone and the exhibit. Her work here was done, and she didn't feel any better because of it. If anything, she felt worse.

The longer she was inside the building, the more trapped she felt. Her breathing started to pick up, her heartbeat was racing, and sweat was beginning to form around her hairline beneath her baseball cap. _Calm down. Calm down. Stop it_, she commanded herself, but the walls just seemed like they were caving in more and more, so she kept moving.

She didn't know how the hell she got outside, but once she did, she couldn't stop breathing deeply, desperately trying to fill her lungs with fresh, beautiful oxygen from the clear sky outside. She stumbled to the stairs at the front of the building and eased herself down onto the first step. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she pulled the brim of her baseball cap down lower over her face and kept her head tucked down. Emma's face was known throughout the U.S. enough for her to get noticed when she was out and about, but today was not the day for someone to come up to her and shyly ask if she were Captain America's girlfriend.

And as she sat on the steps in front of the Air & Space Museum, Emma suddenly had an idea that hit her like a repulsor blast from one of Tony Stark's suits, and she knew what she needed to do.

* * *

And that was how Emma Carroll found herself in an airport. Completely on a whim, she'd gone straight to the airport and had bought the first ticket to Hartford, Connecticut. She hadn't gone home to pack any clothes or anything else—she'd simply gone to the airport and bought the ticket, an act that she knew she might later regret once she was calm and was able to fully digest how much she'd actually spent on the ticket.

But for the moment, she didn't care. She stared at the phone in her hand and swallowed hard. This was the first time she'd ever done anything like this. She and Steve had always had open communication between the two of them, and even though they'd had some arguments in the past, their relationship had never gotten to this point. When Emma thought about it, there really wasn't anything to be mad about; there wasn't a reason for her to be so upset and panicked the way she was, and yet there all the reasons in the world for her to be reacting that way.

She couldn't get her mind clear, and the only logical response to that had been the thought of going home. She hadn't called anyone in her family to let them know of her impending arrival, but she figured she'd wing it. She was the kind of person who liked knowing things in advance, and for the first time in a very long time, she was really just going with the flow of what happened. She would figure everything out once she was home again.

Home. The word was familiar in Emma's mind, but the thing was: when Emma thought of home, she didn't picture the nice home she'd left four years ago in Manchester, Connecticut. She pictured Steve.

* * *

Sunday evening in the Carroll-Gallagher household was the one night a week that everyone came over. Alex, Evan, and Dave Gallagher dragged themselves and whatever girlfriends they had at the time over to Lacey Carroll and Mason Gallagher's house, and they had dinner and talked and laughed and drank and played games. This was a routine that they'd had for years, and it was a routine that they had yet to break, though they had no plans to break it any time soon.

Dinner was over, and it was around 7:30 that particular Sunday night when the doorbell rang. Everyone lowered the drinks in their hands in confusion and exchanged glances with each other as they tried to figure out who was the one who'd invited someone else over.

"Dude, did you invite Cara?" Evan asked his younger brother, turning his head to meet his brother's grey eyes. Dave frowned and shook his head; he'd just started dating a girl named Cara who lived down the hall from him, but he hadn't brought her home yet because he felt that it was too early to introduce her to the family.

"I'll get it," Lacey said and stood up with a confused look on her face. It wasn't completely out of the blue for the Carroll-Gallagher household to get visitors, but no one seemed to be expecting anyone. Again, it wasn't entirely unusual, but it was enough to confuse the woman. She crossed to the door, wine glass in hand, and she put her hand on the doorknob and twisted. When she opened the door, she froze.

"Emma?!" she exclaimed, her eyes huge in her skull. "Oh, my God! Emma! Guys, Emma's home!"

Without hesitating, she reached forward and drew Emma Carroll into her arms. Emma hadn't thought she would've enjoyed the amorous welcome home from her zealous aunt, but as soon as Lacey's arms wrapped around her, she remembered how much she'd loved getting her aunt's hugs, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Alex's voice came thundering down the hall. Lacey pulled back from Emma and glanced sharply over her shoulder.

"Watch your mouth. You're in your mother's house," she mildly scolded. Emma looked up at her aunt, and she couldn't stop grinning. Lacey looked exactly the same as she had three years ago. She still had her shoulder-length hair and her same every day shade of lipstick, and when she smiled, she had just a few extra smile lines around the corners of her eyes that conveyed the happiness she'd received in the past few years since Emma had last seen her.

"Oh, get in here." Lacey pulled Emma through the doorway and hugged her tight again right as the rest of the family finished scrambling to the door to see their mystery niece/cousin/friend. Over Lacey's shoulder, Emma could make out Alex and Laura, Evan, Dave, and Uncle Mason standing there as the anxiously awaited a full, good look at her. As overwhelmed as she felt, she felt a strange sense of comfort that she hadn't expected to feel come over her.

"Oh, my God," Dave suddenly mused with lifted eyebrows. "It really is her."

"Shut up and hug me," Emma said as Lacey let her go, and she opened her arms to her younger cousin. He beamed at her before leaning down and hugging her back, and before she knew it, all three cousins were surrounding her and hugging her. Just hours before, Emma had been freaking out on the front steps of the Air & Space Museum in Washington D.C., and now she couldn't contain her smile. She hadn't seen her boys in so long, and yet here they all were. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend that it was like she'd never left home. In a way, it wasn't like she'd ever left. The warm hugs and smiles on her family's faces as they saw her reminded her of the warmth they'd shown her even then. She wondered why she'd waited so long to come back. Finally, the cousins released her, and she turned to Laura and Mason to give them their hugs, too.

"It's good to see you, Em," Mason whispered in her ear before pulling back and squeezing her on the shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" Lacey asked in shock. "We could've had someone go get you at the airport, and we could've gone out for a nice dinner, and—"

"No, no, no," Emma said quickly, still beaming brightly. "It's fine. It was kind of a…spur of the moment decision. I have enough sick leave saved up, so I decided to cash some of it in and come here." She paused. "Surprise!"

"Yeah, this is some fucking surprise, alright," Alex remarked with his own huge grin lighting up his face. Lacey looked at him again with a bored expression that Emma could only associate with her and her sons—it was so Lacey that she had to cover her mouth to hide her snickers.

"Really, Alex? I'm right here," Lacey said dully. "I don't want to hear my baby boys using bad language."

"Mom, I'm 29," Alex argued back. "Who do you think I learned the words from, anyway?"

"Just because I use them doesn't mean I want you using them," Lacey flippantly replied, and she turned her attention back to Emma. "I can't believe you're actually here."

"Where's Steve?" Evan asked. Silence filled the room as Emma panicked. She'd planned out what she wanted to say, and she'd rehearsed it in her head a thousand times, but now that the moment was there, she couldn't quite get the words out. Everyone's eyes were on her, and she blinked, clearing her throat in an effort to get her vocal cords to work again.

"He's on a mission," she said casually. "This one sounded like he'll be gone for a few days or more, so I thought I'd come home and spend some time with you guys."

"We ever going to meet that kid?" Alex asked teasingly. Emma grinned at him.

"Alex, he's not a kid. He's like, twice your age," she said.

"That's supposed to make us feel better?" Mason asked with a sigh, meriting a laugh from Emma as she crossed to her favorite spot on the couch and sat down. She drew her knees up beneath her and tucked them off to the side the way she'd always sat there whenever she'd watched TV with the family on Wednesday nights to catch their favorite shows together all throughout her high school years.

"Even if you take out the years he was frozen, he's still older than you," Emma pointed out cheerfully. "He's 30, technically."

"Dude, no way," Alex argued. "He's 95."

"Regardless, he's older than you."

"Oh, Jesus, it's like having all the kids back," Lacey sighed with a hint of nostalgia in her voice. "Em, do you want anything to drink? We just popped open a bottle of wine if you'd like some."

"Oh, God, yes, I'd love some!" Emma said, perking up instantly. Lacey moved to the kitchen, but Emma quickly stood up and shook her head. "Aunt Lacey, I'll get it. It's been a while since I've been home. I haven't seen the kitchen, and it'd be nice for to like, I don't know…see it again. Is that weird?"

"Not at all. Come on back, hon. We remodeled about a year back, so I'll show you what it looks like now." Lacey beckoned Emma over to her, and obediently, the blonde nurse fell in step with her aunt. She walked behind her aunt, craning her neck to look at all the familiar decorations on the wall she'd forgotten about until now, and she caught the door to the kitchen as Lacey held it open for her.

"Shit, this is nice," Emma remarked in an impressed tone, looking over the remodeled kitchen. "Barely looks like it did back when I was living here."

"Isn't it nice? We thought it'd be a good change for us. Dave had just graduated college last year, and he'd moved in with Evan when your uncle and I decided to redo it," Lacey replied as she crossed to the fridge. Emma wished she knew where the glasses were, so she wasn't just standing there completely useless, but there were too many cabinets, and she was still trying to absorb everything that had happened in the last five minutes.

"It really is nice," she said. Lacey turned over her shoulder with the bottle of wine in her hand, glancing fondly at her niece before crossing to the correct cabinet and opening it.

"Why are you really here, honey?" she asked quietly as she pulled a glass out of the cabinet and set it down on the counter, turning to face Emma. Emma paused and stared hard at Lacey in surprise. She looked down at the tiled floor she didn't recognize, and she thought frantically of what to say. She could always deny that there was an ulterior motive for coming home, but she was a terrible liar, and Lacey knew that. Then again, she didn't want to talk about it just then. She wanted to enjoy a nice evening in with the family she'd spent so much time away from.

"What?" she asked, deciding to play the dumb route. She tilted her head to the side and tried to look as innocent as she could, but Lacey's face told her she wasn't buying it. Lacey poured some wine into the glass and held it out to Emma.

"You don't fool me, kid," she said with a smirk. "No suitcase? I noticed as soon as I saw that that was actually you standing there on my porch."

Caught, Emma looked down guiltily, and she smiled. "I didn't think that one through."

"What's got your head so razzled?" Lacey asked genuinely. "Spontaneous trips aren't exactly your style, and neither is coming without any kind of suitcase with you."

Emma carefully looked up, and she twisted her mouth to the side. Sighing, she stared into the wine glass at the red liquid inside it, and she shook her head. "It's a long story, Aunt Lacey. Right now…I'm looking forward to spending time with you guys. You weren't kidding. It's been a long time."

"Hell yeah, it's been a long time. We haven't seen you in three years, and it's been _four _years since you've set foot in this house." Lacey crossed towards her niece and playfully hip-checked the young woman, smiling as she saw Emma's lips curve upward into a small smile.

"Well," Emma said as she looked up, her grey-green eyes meeting the same ones that belonged to her aunt. "I'm here now."

"That you are." Lacey slung an arm around Emma's shoulders and started moving back towards the kitchen. "And that's all that matters right now. We can deal with all that other shit another time."

"Ok," Emma replied because she believed her aunt.

* * *

"So we're the kind of friends who call each other late at night now?" Grace crossed through the doorway and into the apartment with a grin on her face.

"Looks like we are now," Steve quipped. He paused. "Wait, you've done that to me before. Numerous times. We've always been that kind of friends."

Grace considered this. "Oh. Huh, I guess you're right." She walked into the couch and made herself at home on one end of the couch as Steve crossed into the kitchen. "What's the problem?"

"Emma's gone," Steve replied in a dull monotone. Grace sat up straighter on the couch, and she openly frowned.

"What?" she asked. "What do you mean she's gone?"

"She went to go visit her family in Connecticut," Steve answered.

"You know, it's funny how she's from Connecticut because I'm from Connecticut," Grace remarked, more to herself than to Steve. She watched him as he moved about the kitchen as he got the coffee pot going. One good thing about Steve and Emma was that they almost always had fresh, hot coffee ready in their apartment, she realized. "Why'd she leave?"

"Said she needed to spend time with her family," Steve said. Grace snorted from behind him.

"Yeah, that's totally believable," she said. Steve glanced over his shoulder and gave her a small smile.

"I know, right?" he said. He sighed and crossed into the living room, placing his hands on the back of the couch and leaning on them. "She walked in on me the other night when I was looking over Peggy's files."

"What, were you jacking off to them or something?" Grace asked with a confused frown. Steve made a face at her and rolled his eyes.

"No, I wasn't," he replied. "I was just looking at them. Why'd I call you again?"

"Because I'm your best friend in the modern world, and you know it," Grace happily answered.

"Oh," Steve deadpanned. "Right."

"Anyway, I can imagine that Em wasn't too happy to walk in and see you looking over your ex-flame's files. I wouldn't be terribly happy if I came home to find Tony digging up info on an ex," Grace pointed out. Steve frowned.

"Didn't that happen with the whole Maya thing back with the Mandarin?" he asked.

"Yeah, kind of, but _she_ sought _him _out," Grace said. "But that's why she took off to go see her aunt and uncle?"

"Yeah," Steve replied. "She told me to go see Peggy."

"So go see her." Grace stared at him as though this were the obvious answer.

"I can't," Steve argued as his frown deepened.

"You need to. You're not going to be able to get past this with Emma if you don't sort out this Peggy shit first. I totally said this to you last time we talked about it." Grace tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and gazed up at Steve with her weird amber eyes. "Steve, she told you to go do it."

"But is that one of those weird things where women say it's ok for you to do something but then get angry if you do it, even though they said you could?" Steve asked, a genuinely pained expression crossing his face. Grace burst out laughing, and she threw her head backwards, her hair falling back over her shoulder with the movement.

"Steve, you've been in a relationship with her for how long?" she asked, still snickering as she calmed herself down.

"Three years," he answered dutifully.

"She's probably just sick of waiting for you to get over your Peggy problems." Grace watched Steve turn over his shoulder and walk back into the kitchen to check on the coffee.

"I don't have Peggy problems," he retorted, turning his head slightly back in her direction.

"Dude, you have Peggy problems."

Steve poured two mugs full of coffee, and he crossed back towards Grace with one mug in each hand and a perplexed scowl on his face. "No, I don't."

"We could sit and argue this all night. Just go see her." Grace eagerly accepted the mug from him, and she wrapped her hands around it gleefully. Steve sat down on the opposite end of the couch.

"So you think I should go," he said, thinking out loud.

"That's what I've been saying. Go. Emma said it was ok. She wouldn't tell you to if she didn't want you to."

Steve's blue eyes shot up and made contact with Grace's amber ones. "You give terrible advice about how women think."

"Shut up, man. Look, I'm not Emma, but think about it. If she really didn't want you to go, don't you think she'd trust you enough to tell you, right? She probably doesn't like the idea of it, and it probably upsets the shit out of her, but she's willing to put it aside for you. That woman loves you, Steve. She _really_ fucking loves you." Grace tentatively took a sip of her coffee and winced at how hot it was. Steve stared at her as if he were seeing her for the first time, and slowly, his face melted into a thoughtful frown.

"Ok," he said.

"Ok, you'll go?" Grace questioned, lifting her eyebrows.

Steve didn't look away from her, and he nodded again.

"Ok, I'll go."


	9. Nostalgia

**Shoutouts to Jack-chan88, Lilybear3121, stuffoflegends, MsRose91, and HiddenAngel23 for reviewing!**

**So it seems that I'm posting a new chapter within 24 hours. I guess I just got super inspired last night! It also hurts my heart to have Emma and Steve in such a weird place, and I'm ready for them to have a good talk! Alas, that time is not now.**

**Enter: Peggy Carter**

**I've always loved the character of Peggy (just not as a love interest for Steve), so I really, really tried not to make her an antagonist in this, even though she's kind of a mental antagonist for Emma. So hopefully, I've done Peggy Carter justice. Up ahead, we also have family bonding, some box-searching, and a new addition to the story concerning Emma's parents. What in the name of freedom is going on?**

**I haven't rewritten any more of _Healing Touch_ just yet because I'm at the sex scene chapter, and I want to expand on that part of the chapter while still keeping the integrity of the chapter. If you're rereading it, it's coming around at some point. If you're not rereading it, I would probably suggest doing so. The story arc is still the same, but a lot of the conversations that they have are different. Originally, I'd written Steve as this very boring kind of guy, but he's so not, and I didn't really get that until after I saw _Winter Soldier_. He's a sassy guy, and so I incorporated more of his dry sense of humor into it.**

**Ok, this was long enough. As always, please continue leaving your thoughts and opinions because I love, love, love getting them, and they help me keep my motivation up!**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 9

Emma took a breath when she walked through the doorway into her old high school room. Everything was virtually unchanged, and seeing it again was a slap of hard cold nostalgia across the face. She slowly drank everything in as she crossed towards her old bed and sat down. Even the navy blue comforter across her bed was the same. Smiling, she reached one hand out and smoothed the comforter as she ran her hand back and forth.

"Everything's still the same," she remarked out loud.

"Yep. Mom always said you'd come back at some point and need a place to stay." Dave folded his arms across his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. Emma looked up at him, her smile still bright across her face. Spending time with her family had been strangely therapeutic for her, but she hadn't had any time to just be alone with Dave, the cousin who was most like her, and she was happy to see her thoughtful, peaceful cousin.

"Good job to her for looking ahead," she said. "I think I'll be 50, and she'll still have this room looking just the same for me." A comfortable silence passed between them, Dave's grey eyes complacently looking around the room as she looked at him. "So Alex says you started seeing someone?"

"Yeah, kind of. She lives down the hall from me and Evan," he replied. "She's nice."

"What does she do?" Emma asked, and she drew her knees up to sit in a criss-cross position.

"Environmental engineering," Dave replied with a small smile. Emma lifted her eyebrows and let out a low whistle.

"That's hardcore shit, Davey," she said. Instantly, he made a face at her.

"God, it really _is_ you, isn't it?" he said in a disgusted tone. "I thought you left that nickname behind when you moved out four years ago."

"Not quite," Emma answered with a grin wide across her mouth. "Some things never change, Davey."

"Yeah? What about you?" Dave gazed at her with a curious look in his eyes. "Have you changed?"

"More or less." Emma gave him a small, tight smile, and Dave knew her enough to know not to push her. He nodded, and he sighed, yawning as he ran a hand over his face.

"I'll bet. I'm going to head out now. Wound up riding with Evan, and he said he was planning on leaving soon. How long are you staying for?"

"I don't know. I…I haven't bought a ticket home yet." Emma had thought about coming up with a date just to keep him from being concerned, but she couldn't lie to Dave. She could lie to Lacey and Mason and maybe even Alex and Evan, but she just could not lie to Dave. He frowned at her and tilted his head to the side in a way that reminded her of herself.

"Em…what's wrong?" he asked.

"There's a…a lot going on. It's hard to explain," she replied with a vague frown on her face. Dave blinked, and then he slowly nodded, again knowing better than to push her. Emma would talk when she was ready, and it was obvious that she wasn't ready now. So instead of arguing with her and forcing her to tell him, he just nodded and unfolded his arms from across his chest.

"Ok," he said. "When am I going to see you next?"

"Probably tomorrow. I don't know. I haven't really figured out what I'm going to do. Aunt Lacey said something about taking me into the city and just hanging out and having girl time, but I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow," Emma said reassuringly. She stood up and she crossed to her younger cousin, gazing up at him, and she sighed almost regretfully. "You're so tall now. I remember when I used to be taller than you."

"Didn't last long, though, did it?" Dave smirked at her, and she smiled and shook her head in response.

"No, it didn't. Come here, and hug me. I'll see you tomorrow. If Aunt Lacey asks about me when you go down, tell her I've already gone to bed." She hugged the tall, young man and backed away from him to hold him at arms' length. Again, she sighed and shook her head. "I'll send out a group text, so we can all figure out what we're going to do."

"Yeah, we don't get that a chance that often to see you." Dave smiled and turned over his shoulder. "See you, Em."

"See you, Dave." Emma watched him turn his head and walk down the stairs before she shut the door and locked it behind her. She almost felt guilty for locking it because it was kind of like she was locking herself away, but she didn't want any interruptions for what she was about to do. Quietly, she changed out of her clothes and into one of the old t-shirts still hanging in her closet. She glanced down at it and grinned. The shirt was from her Biology Club days in high school, and until she'd seen it, she hadn't thought about Biology Club in years.

She crossed to her old bed and slid underneath the covers before turning the light out and grabbing her phone. She put her head on the pillow, and she unlocked her iPhone before staring at the number she typed in. _One press_, she thought. _One press. That's all you have to do_. Her thumb didn't want to hit the Call button, even though her heart desperately wanted it to. She took a deep breath, and then she gently pressed it.

Steve answered on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Steve, it's me."

"I know. I…I have Caller ID." The amusement was there in Steve's voice. In the darkness of her old room, Emma let all the stress surrounding him melt away, and she smiled against the cool glass surface of her phone.

"You're right," she said. Silence passed between them as neither knew what to say. "I'm here. In Connecticut, I mean. Well, I'm in my house. In my bed."

"How is it being back home?" Steve asked carefully.

"It's nice," she answered quietly, her voice full with an honesty that Steve hadn't heard in a good solid week from her. She cleared her throat. "My family asked about you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. They want to meet you really badly."

"I'd like to meet them, too."

"Steve…"

"Emma?"

"I miss you." The words rolled out of Emma's mouth so easily that she realized they'd been building up on the back of her tongue for days now. Her grip on the phone tightened, and instinctively, she curled up into a ball on her side as she protectively cradled the phone against her face.

"Honey, I miss you, too." His voice smoothly floated into her ear, and she closed her eyes at the sound of it. Over their silent past few days, she'd missed his voice, hearing his laugh, feeling the low rumble of his words across her skin when he was turned on. He could make love to her with just his voice, she always told him, and he always laughed and looked slightly self-conscious but not so self-conscious that he couldn't give her a cheeky, adorable wink, too.

"This is the first time I've really had an empty bed in a long time," she murmured.

"I understand what you mean." There was a longing in Steve's tone that made Emma's heart pull, and she could picture him lying in bed in the darkness, too. She didn't know if that was what he was actually doing, but the thought of it made her feel a stronger sense of comfort. "It's weird having the apartment to myself."

"Welcome to my world," Emma said in an attempt at making a joke but falling flat.

"Does your aunt still have your parents' old stuff?" Steve asked, completely changing the subject.

"Yeah, I asked her earlier, and she said it's in the basement, so I'll go through it at some point tomorrow. Do you have to go into SHIELD tomorrow?"

"No. I have a day off."

"That's good. You deserve one."

"I wish I were spending it with you."

Emma was quiet, and she nodded. Realizing that Steve couldn't see her, she cleared her throat. "I wish you were, too." She paused. "Remember our first anniversary? How we went up to the roof and looked at the stars almost the entire night like a bunch of cliché teenagers?"

"Of course I do." She could hear the smile in Steve's voice. "I remember everything with you."

"I was just thinking about it," she said quietly. Before he could answer, she spoke. "I'll let you go now. It's late, and I don't know what time I'll be getting up. I love you."

"I love you, too, Emma. I'm thinking about you. Good night."

"Good night." Reluctantly, Emma pulled the phone away from her face, and she pressed the End button on her screen. She turned her phone off and set it on her nightstand as she began to drift off to sleep, Steve's quiet voice telling her he loved her lulling her to sleep.

* * *

Steve had never been more nervous in his life.

Actually, that wasn't true. He'd been very nervous about a lot of things he'd done in his 95 years of living—though technically he was only conscious for 30 of those years—but this was one of the most nervous he'd ever been. When he thought about it, the only other time he'd been this nervous was when he'd had sex with Emma for the first time.

Now that he was a bit of a seasoned pro, he could smile at himself for how anxious he'd been. He remembered everything about the moment: how his heart had been pounding so hard it'd almost been painful, how smooth Emma's bare skin had been beneath him, that feeling of pushing inside her for the very first time—he remembered it all, and it was one of his best memories with her, though he often had a hard time picking what his best memories were because they had so many together. Thinking back on their relationship was always a unique experience for him because in some ways, they'd moved very fast together in their beginning stages, but in other ways, they'd moved all too slowly.

Sex had been one of the quicker parts of their budding relationship, surprisingly. Since Steve had come from such a conservative background, he'd surprised even himself with how easily he'd been able to get over his moral conscious telling him that premarital sex was wrong. He remembered Bucky telling him, "Look, when you and a dame start doing things, you've got to take it one step at a time. You don't just rush into sex. You've got to do other things with each other first."

Well, Steve had skipped straight past those other things with Emma and had gone right to the actual sex part, something that he no longer had a problem with. Having sex with Emma was a freeing experience for him; he got the opportunity to show her how much he loved her by using his body. Sometimes words couldn't convey to her enough how much he really, truly loved her, and when words couldn't express his feelings, he would translate them into the poetry of their bodies moving together, and he knew that they both understood that language all too well.

Sex came naturally to him, but what he was about to do didn't come naturally at all. He consciously told himself to breathe in and out, to slow his pulse. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he saw that he'd been standing outside in the hall for 10 minutes now. Captain America was terrified of an old woman. Wryly, the thought of seeing that as a headline came to Steve's head, and despite how anxious he was, he cracked a grin at it. Slowly, he inhaled, and he exhaled one last, looked at the clock, and then he knocked on the doorframe and stepped inside.

Steve almost didn't recognize her, but when he looked at the woman's eyes, he knew it couldn't have been anyone other than Peggy Carter. His stomach turned, and his breath left his lungs as he stared at her. Silently, Peggy stared back at him, her eyes wide in shock. Neither of them knew how long they were silent, but it seemed like an eternity.

"All these years I've pictured this moment," Peggy finally spoke, her English accent still as crisp and cutting as ever. Her voice sounded older, but it was hers; Steve would've known the sound of it anywhere. He allowed himself to smile at her, and he took a few more careful steps forward.

"Me, too," he said. Amused, Peggy lifted her eyebrows, and she smiled at him.

"Don't think I'm getting soft on you," she said. "Whenever I've pictured this moment, I pictured what it would be like to smack you hard across the face for leaving the way you did."

"It really is you, huh?" Steve was unable to hide his smile now, and he felt his shoulders beginning to loosen, the tension draining from them.

"Of course it's me. I was wondering when you'd find out I was here. I haven't exactly been under the radar or anything, you know." Peggy's eyes twinkled as she looked at him, and if Steve allowed his eyes to unfocus long enough, he could almost picture her as the beautiful, young brunette she'd once been. "Steve Rogers. I always hoped and prayed they would find you. I never gave up hope."

Steve finally took the plunge, and he crossed all the way to her bedside. Without looking away from her, he sank down into the chair beside her bed and smiled up at her.

"Thank you," he said, though he wasn't sure that that were the right thing to say.

"I've always had faith in you, Steve." A hint of fondness crept into Peggy's voice. They were silent for a few moments, simply staring at each other, and a shiny glaze seemed to come over Peggy's eyes. Looking away, she laughed softly, and she wiped her eyes with her thumb. "I feel ridiculous. I've known you were back for three years now, and I can't help acting like I just heard you'd been pulled from the ice."

"Time's funny, Peggy," Steve said softly, his tone mirroring hers. She laughed again, and she glanced at him, shaking her head.

"I just can't believe it's you. It's actually you." She sighed and turned her head to fully look at him. "You don't look a day older than the last time I saw you. It's not fair."

"If you want to trade places and get frozen for 70 years, be my guest." Steve's mouth pulled up into a smile again. "It's an experience that isn't at the top of my recommend list."

"You look happy, Steve," Peggy quietly said, her smile gentle as her eyes scanned over his face, studying him.

"I am," Steve honestly replied. "I really am happy."

"That young woman of yours is good for you." Peggy chuckled softly when she saw the surprise enter Steve's eyes. "I might be old, Captain Rogers, but I still keep up with the news. You and Miss Carroll are all over the tabloids."

"Peggy—"

"Oh, don't give me a dramatic speech, Steve. We were going to have this conversation at some point, and you know it." She paused and squinted her dark eyes at him. "I've had a good life. I found love, and I have children and grandchildren. I was happy, and quite frankly, even though I'm in here, I'm happy now. I'm only happy that _you_ get your chance to be happy now, too."

Steve didn't say anything as he stared back at Peggy. In a way, she was still like her old self, the self that he remembered. She had that same sparkle in her eyes that she'd always had, but also, she was wiser. She was smarter and older in a way that suggested she was tired but also amused by the state of the world around her. He tried to picture her saying this to him back in 1945, and he couldn't. He looked down at his hands and smiled.

"I'm glad you're happy, too," he said. His blue eyes glanced back up at her with a serious expression filling them. "You really are happy, though?"

"Of course I am. I could be much worse than I am now. Hell, I could be dead, and I'm not just yet, so yes, I'm happy," she replied with an easy laugh that reminded Steve of how she'd laughed when she was younger in the times that he'd known her. "I think you'd like my children. My grandchildren can be a bit frightening, but my children you'd like."

"I'm sure I'd like all of them," Steve answered.

"Still so polite," Peggy said appreciatively. "They don't quite make gentlemen the way they used to."

"So I've heard," Steve wryly replied, his mind unpleasantly flashing back to stories of Emma's ex-boyfriends that she'd briefly told him about when he'd asked. Peggy heard his tone, and she smiled that same small, amused smile again.

"Tell me about Emma," she said. Steve blinked, and he shifted in his chair as he looked down at his hands.

"She's…Emma…she's great," he finally said. "She's amazing."

"Huh, still don't know a damn thing about women," Peggy teased lightly, causing Steve to smile again. "Tell me about her. Tabloids don't always get information correct. Even direct interviews have a way of getting skewed."

"I don't know…Emma—she—she saved me," Steve honestly said, finally getting the words to come out right. "She was there for me when I woke up from the ice, and she's been there ever since. She's…she's funny. She's patient, understanding…has a sense of calm about her like no one else I've ever known. " Once he got talking, he found he couldn't stop. "She loves all kinds of music. When she's really happy, her eyes look more green than grey, and she likes her coffee with two creamers and two sugars. She likes the color blue because it calms her. She loves sunflowers and Ernest Hemingway and art museums."

"And you," Peggy calmly added. Steve opened his mouth to continue, but he stopped when his brain registered what she'd just said.

"Yes," he said slowly. "She does."

"I'm so happy for you," Peggy said quietly. Her smile shone through her eyes, and Steve knew that she meant it from the bottom of her heart. "She sounds wonderful."

Steve nodded. "She is. She's beyond—more than wonderful."

"I never believed those rumors about you and that Agent Grace Marks from your Avengers team, by the way," Peggy said with an almost disdainful eye roll. "Everything you said only appears that I was right. I've never seen you quite like this before, and I must say that it's rather nice to see you with an actual smile on your face instead of looking so serious all the time. Steve, she's the right partner."

Steve paused, his blue eyes wide. "You're right."

"Of course I am. She's it."

Steve swallowed hard. He'd come here expecting to catch up with his former friend, but it seemed that even she was there to remind him of how much he needed to fix things with Emma. Maybe Grace had been right. He allowed the thought to enter his mind that maybe he _had_ needed to come here today to see Peggy because, admittedly, he was finding a closure he didn't know he'd needed until now. And if anything, this visit was serving as a reminder that Emma truly was the right partner. Peggy was right: Emma was it. She was it.

* * *

Steve spent the rest of the day and most of the evening talking with Peggy, only leaving the room once when Emma had called to check in on him. He listened to Peggy's stories about her life after him; he listened to her talk of how she'd fallen in love with her husband and had started SHIELD with Howard Stark. He listened to her when her voice turned sad as she mentioned Howard's death and the years that passed right after. He sat, and he listened.

At one point, the conversation turned to Bucky, and Steve found himself unable to say anything more about his best friend than a few funny stories that had taken place pre-Serum. Bucky crossed his mind at least once a day, but he could usually think of Bucky without the pain that had once accompanied those thoughts so acutely. He hadn't even told Emma very much about the best friend who'd been more like a brother to him. Of course, Emma knew who Bucky was from her history lessons, but he had told her a few things about him—again, mainly stories that had taken place pre-Serum.

Some things were just too painful to talk about. Even 70-something years later.

"How's Tony doing these days? He's so busy now that he has those suits that I don't see him as much. He still manages to drop by every now and then, but I think it's been a month or so since the last visit. He's such a sweet kid," Peggy said. Steve lifted his eyebrows in surprise and didn't bother to hide his surprise.

"If Tony Stark is sweet, then I'm Johann Schmidt," he quipped smartly. "He's the last person in the world, other than maybe Johann Schmidt himself, that I'd call sweet."

"Generally, he has a good heart. He tries to do the right thing. He just…has a few wisecracks to make along the way," Peggy admitted with a slight shrug. "He _is _arrogant. But he's Howard's son. He's so much like Howard that sometimes I have to stop myself from actually calling him Howard."

"I don't remember Howard being so arrogant," Steve protested with a frown.

"That feeling of not being able to remember? It's called being a senior citizen." Peggy grinned, and Steve found himself grinning back at her, and he shook his head.

"You, too, huh?" he asked good-naturedly. "I've gotten so many old man jokes since I've come back that I could publish a joke book full of them."

"You're so easy to tease. That's why," Peggy pointed out. Steve thought back to all the times pre-Serum that he'd been picked on and beaten up, and he guessed that she had a point. He couldn't exactly say that trouble had avoided him over the years. In fact, he seemed to be quite the trouble magnet, even before he'd gotten the Serum.

"What can I say?" Steve sighed. "I think it comes in the job description. Tony's doing fine, by the way. I'm sure you know he's engaged to Agent Marks."

"Oh, yes, I did see that a while back," Peggy replied. "All the interviews I've seen of them, he's quite sweet to her. Steve, you have to admit that he has a _little _bit of a gentleman side to him."

"Only sometimes," Steve conceded. "Grace is his weak spot."

"Much like Emma is yours," Peggy pointed out. Steve was quiet as he thought about it, and then he nodded.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Exactly." He paused. "Have you ever met Grace?"

"Grace Marks?" Peggy asked. Steve nodded. "No, I haven't, actually. You would think that I would have by now, considering that she's Tony's fiancée, and she's such a big name at SHIELD, but I haven't had the opportunity yet. Tony usually comes in whenever he's in D.C. for something big or if he's flying about on a whim."

"That sounds like Tony." Steve fought back the smile that threatened to come over his face.

"Be nice. He's a good person. He really is," Peggy gently scolded.

"I respect him. That's for sure. I don't see how I couldn't respect him after we fought together during the Chitauri invasion," Steve admitted. "I guess he isn't that bad. Em and I double with him and Grace sometimes, and he's better than he used to be, particularly after his last incident."

"Whoever would've thought the day would come that Earth would be invaded by aliens?" Peggy remarked. "You know, in some ways, the 1940s was a much simpler time. We had HYDRA, but we didn't have aliens or big, muscled men coming out of the sky with giant hammers."

Steve grinned at her reference to Thor. "Yeah, to some degree, we did have it easier."

She sighed. "Then again, there was the whole, 'You can't do anything because you're a woman and belong in the kitchen' mindset that was very prevalent in our time, but you know…details."

Steve laughed and leaned back comfortably in his chair, crossing his legs by propping his ankle on his thigh. "But you did it. You started SHIELD. You were basically SHIELD's very first agent. You paved the way for women."

"I do find comfort in that," Peggy admitted.

"Without you, we wouldn't have Natasha Romanoff or Grace Marks. We probably wouldn't even have Emma," Steve added. Peggy noticed how Steve's face softened as his lips caressed the blonde nurse's name; she truly was happy for him, and she couldn't express it to him enough. For so many years, she'd hoped relentlessly that Steve would be found. Even if he were dead, she'd hoped that someone would find him so that he could be properly buried. She'd never fully mourned the death of him—she'd mourned the _loss _of him but never the death.

"I've said before that I think your Emma's good for you, but if there's one thing above all else to thank her for, it's for getting you into new clothes," Peggy remarked as her eyes suddenly gave Steve an appreciative onceover. Steve looked down at his clothes—he was wearing jeans and a plain white t-shirt with a leather jacket over it.

"Why?" he asked.

"I saw pictures of you right after the Battle of New York, and you were still stuck in our time," she easily replied. "Emma's got you all caught up on the newest style trends."

"Yeah, she has," Steve mused, again glancing down at himself. "The men wear their jeans so low now."

"You look nice," Peggy said genuinely. "Emma has good taste. In clothes and in men."

"Thank you, Peggy." Steve leaned forward and stood up. "I've stayed pretty long today. I should go."

"It's been a while since I've had such excitement." Peggy winked at him. "Steve…don't be a stranger."

"I won't," he earnestly promised, his genuineness shining through his light blue eyes. "I promise."

"Will you come back tomorrow if you have time?" Peggy asked.

"Yes," Steve answered without hesitating. "You still have to tell me more about those grandchildren of yours."

"You're sweet," Peggy said. "I'll see you, Steve."

"See you tomorrow, Peggy. Sleep well."

"You, too."

Steve left the room feeling more relieved than he had in a long time, and it was because of this talk with Peggy. Grace _had_ been right—he'd needed closure. Hell, even Emma had called him on it, and he'd denied it. Both of the main women in his life had been correct about what he needed; they'd been more on top of it than he had, and he couldn't help thinking that had he noticed it sooner, he might not be feeling so separated from Emma.

* * *

While Steve spent his day visiting with Peggy, Emma spent hers in the basement of her aunt and uncle's house rifling through her parents' old things. Lacey sat on a chair nearby watching her niece with a curious expression on her face. Emma had avoided their Manchester home for four years, and now she was vivaciously going through boxes in the basement with a newfound passion Lacey hadn't seen in her in a while. Granted, she hadn't actually seen Emma in a while, so maybe she didn't know her niece as well as she thought she did.

"Are you looking for something in particular?" Lacey asked.

"Oh, not really. I was just thinking about my parents and was feeling like I needed to go through their things. I don't think I ever really got closure," Emma replied without looking up from an old high school yearbook that had belonged to Leah Carroll nee West.

"Losing your parents was very difficult," Lacey said solemnly. "It's been over 10 years, and…"

Her voice trailed off, but Emma understood. She looked up, and she nodded once, her face sincere. "I know…my dad would've loved Steve."

"Would he?" Lacey smiled as she thought about her older brother. She knew that her own sons stood in as brothers to Emma, and she was glad that the blonde girl had been able to grow up—somewhat—having surrogate brothers around her the way that she'd had Thomas growing up.

"Yeah. Dad had the best sense of humor, and so does Steve. People don't think he does because he's so stoic whenever he's on a mission, and usually, all the media attention he gets are whenever he's on a mission or fighting, so people generally don't think he has a good sense of humor," Emma answered nonchalantly. "He's hilarious, though."

"I can't wait to meet him," Lacey said. She noticed Emma's hands stilled for the briefest second before turning the page in the yearbook she was still thumbing through.

"I called him last night and told him everyone wants to meet him," Emma said, her voice too casually forced.

"What'd he say?" Lacey asked.

"He wants to meet you guys, too," Emma replied carefully. "I think it's hard for him to not have any family left. I mean, back in his time, he had friends, but here, when he woke up, he didn't have anyone, and I think that's been hard on him."

"I can only imagine," Lacey said with a snort. "How awful to get put on ice for 70 years only to wake up to the news that everyone you ever knew and loved was dead. That boy of yours has had a tough hand of it, Em."

"He's not a boy," Emma grumbled. She shut the yearbook and set it down at her feet. She wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for—she wasn't even sure what she was going to find here in these boxes, but she made sure to keep an eye out for anything with a SHIELD emblem on it. She also made sure to watch out for the last name "Stark," since anything to do with the Stark family was tied in with SHIELD, as well. "He's a grown ass man."

"I still think of my sons as boys. It's not personal," Lacey said in a teasing tone, meriting a smile from Emma. "I don't know if it's worse to think that Steve could be your great-grandfather or—"

"Ew, no, stop," Emma protested with a horrified look on her face. She looked up from the box for the first time in the last 10 minutes, her attention completely on Lacey. "Ugh, I always hate whenever Evan and Alex go on and on about that. Yes, he's old, but he's not even really all that old. Physically, emotionally, and mentally, he's 30."

"But when you look at the year he was born…" Lacey's voice trailed off, and she raised her eyebrows in a knowing smirk as Emma made another face and shook her head the way cats shook their heads to get water off them.

"Yuck. You guys are disgusting and love to get me grossed out," she said sourly. "I _will_ say, though, that Steve's body is nowhere near that of a 95 year old. In fact, his body is so damn perfect, I haven't seen a 25 year old anywhere close to him."

"If you're talking about sex, I'm not entirely sure I want to hear about it," Lacey said with a sigh. Emma grinned wickedly at her and wrinkled her nose.

"I thought so," she replied.

"I'm not _entirely_ sure," Lacey emphasized as she pointed a finger at Emma. "He _is _a superhero, so I can't imagine that the sex sucks."

"I can't believe I'm sitting in my basement talking to my aunt about sex," Emma muttered loud enough for Lacey to hear. Lacey laughed out loud, a full, hearty laugh that was very much like Emma's whenever Emma was genuinely appreciative of something funny.

"I've always encouraged you kids to be open with me," she said. "However, I do admit that there's a fine line between open sex talk and closeted sex talk."

"Closeted sex talk?" Emma repeated with a confused look on her face.

"Closeted sex talk. Implying something sexual under the pretense that you've never done it before," Lacey explained. "And that's exactly what this conversation has become."

"Aunt Lacey, there's no way in hell I'm telling you about what Steve is like in bed," Emma said, but she was grinning from ear to ear.

"All I'm saying is that I've seen the pictures of him from when he first came out of that tube-thing that turned him into the Steve you know and love now, and there's no way a man with that kind of body could suck at sex," her aunt pointed out with a shrug. "It's the truth. That's all I'm saying. Even if you deny it, I won't believe you."

"Why did I come home?" Emma let out a dramatic sigh, causing Lacey to laugh, and she pulled out some shirts from the box in front of her. "Whose were these? My dad's?"

"Probably. I think I have more of his stuff than your mom's," Lacey replied. "Your mom's went to her sister in Detroit shortly after the funeral."

"My aunt Diana?" Emma asked. Lacey nodded.

"Yeah, your aunt Diana. She didn't want much, so whatever I thought you'd want of Leah's stuff, I kept here in these boxes," she said.

Emma unfolded some of the shirts, and she nodded in surprised approval. "These are actually some pretty cool shirts. Vintage is in these days, you know."

"I don't keep up with the styles now that I'm old," Lacey scoffed. "Toss those here, and I can run them through the wash for you so you'll have more to wear than your old high school clothes."

"Yeah, I feel like I'm a teenager again." Emma pinched the t-shirt she was wearing and looked down at it. Lo and behold, it was another Biology Club shirt, though this shirt was from the year before the one she'd worn last night to bed. "God, I didn't even know I had all these old shirts in my closet until I looked through it last night."

"You're just like your father. Never wanting to get rid of anything," Lacey pointed out. "Thomas hated throwing things out. He wanted to hold onto it for as long as he could. Always said you never knew when it might be useful."

"Hey, I throw things out!" Emma protested. "I just get a little sentimental over my old t-shirts. Actually, right before Steve and I moved to D.C., I went through all my t-shirts and got rid of a lot of them."

"Really?" Lacey asked, the tone of her voice impressed.

"Kind of," Emma said. "And by kind of, I mean I did get rid of a lot of _my _shirts only to replace them with Steve's old shirts."

"He has old shirts? Like, from the '40s?" Lacey asked in confusion. Emma set the stack of t-shirts down on the floor and looked up at her aunt, shaking her head and laughing.

"No. God, no. His old shirts as in, the ones he outgrew because his muscles got too damn big for them," she answered with a smirk. Lacey's eyebrows shot up into her hairline, and she folded her arms as she gave Emma an impressed look.

"Well. I guess that's the perk of having a superhero boyfriend," she said mildly.

"Also the fact that he's really hard to kill is nice," Emma added. She pulled out another yearbook—this one looked Thomas's—and she started flipping through it. Thomas had been well liked by his classmates. Almost everyone mentioned something about how funny she was, and a smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. As she turned the pages, something shifted in the back of the yearbook. She turned to the back and saw a loose page had been stuck face-down in there. She took the page and flipped it over.

At the top was the SHIELD emblem.

Emma froze, not sure if she should say anything to Lacey or not. Either Lacey knew about her parents and was just trying to keep it a secret to protect her, or Lacey had no idea at all. If Lacey didn't know, Emma wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to be the one to tell her that her brother and sister-in-law had been murdered by Jackson Marsden for reasons that nobody seemed to be able to figure out. SHIELD had seemingly wiped all the files on Thomas and Leah Carroll, and no one seemed to want to talk about what had really happened there.

"Em?" Lacey's voice drew her back to Earth, and Emma lifted her grey-green eyes from the paper to look back at her aunt. Instead of saying her name to try to figure out why Emma was staring at that sheet, Lacey had that look about her that looked like she'd been speaking to Emma, and Emma hadn't been responding.

"Yeah?" she asked innocently.

"Yes, no, maybe?" Lacey asked expectantly. Emma blinked.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention. I was looking at all the bad hairstyles." To make her case, she lifted the yearbook slightly and grinned. Lacey winced in response, her own grey-green eyes darting briefly to the yearbook.

"Those weren't the years for hair," she said. "Don't judge us too harshly. Anyway, I was asking if you wanted to take a break. We can go to downtown and get a nice lunch out, just you and me. Mason doesn't get back from work until about 6:00, and since your home, the boys will want to come over later, and we'll have to figure out a plan with them."

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great," Emma said. She innocently shut the yearbook and set it on top of the stack of t-shirts she had on the floor before picking all of them up. "Let me just run upstairs and put on something else. I think I smell a little musty after going through all this old stuff."

"Alright. I'll be downstairs, so we'll head out whenever you're ready. I was thinking Ensley's for lunch?" Lacey asked, knowing that Emma would be down for that. As predicted, Emma's eyes got huge, and she nodded eagerly.

"God, yes," she said. "I totally forgot about Ensley's. They have the best food there. God, when Steve comes, we'll have to take him there." She paused as soon as the words were out of her mouth. "Steve. I should probably give him a call. Sorry, I'm talking out loud. I'll be back."

Emma quickly moved up the stairs from the basement and then to the second floor with the stack of t-shirts and the yearbook in her arms. Once she was in her room, she tossed them to the floor and pulled her cell phone out of her back pocket. She dialed Steve's number, and put the phone to her ear.

Like clockwork, he answered on the first ring.

"Em?"

"Steve, hi. I wanted to call you."

"Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, everything's ok. I'm about to go grab lunch with my aunt, so I don't have much time, but I just wanted to check in on you. I also wanted to tell you that I found something about SHIELD here in the house. I haven't looked at it yet because I haven't had the chance, but…there's evidence alright." Emma crossed to the closet to find something else to wear—maybe something other than a t-shirt—as she waited for Steve to respond.

"Then that's a step. A small one. But a step," Steve replied. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm ok. I'm surprisingly ok being home. I…I don't know. I'm better than I thought I'd be," she said honestly. "How are you?"

"Missing my best girl," Steve said, and Emma felt the smile melt across her face.

"Is that me?" she asked, even though she knew the answer was her.

"Hmmm. Let me see. Yeah, that's you."

"I would hope so." She said it before she could think about it. The words were out there, and she couldn't take them back because she knew that they were both thinking about Peggy Carter then. Sighing, she ran a hand down the side of her face. "I didn't—I didn't mean—I wasn't meaning it like that. I was—"

"Emma, you're fine," Steve said soothingly. "You're ok."

"Ok." Gone was the playfulness that they'd had, signifying that things were starting to improve between them again. "I should…go. My aunt's waiting for me. Call me later?"

"Of course. I love you." Steve said those three words to her multiple times every day, but Emma would never get tired of hearing them. Even in this weird, pained state they were in, she couldn't get enough of hearing them in his deep, gentle voice.

"I love you, too. So much. Call me later."

"Ok. I'll talk to you then."

"Talk to you later. Bye." She hung up before he could say anything else that would convince her to stay on the phone. For a while, things had seemed ok, and then she'd made that comment that had had the potential to be applicable to Peggy, and they'd gone back to being strained again. Things would be ok, though. They would. She just had to keep telling herself that. She had faith in him, and she had faith in herself.

Until things were officially all right between them again, she would cling to that faith to keep from drowning.


	10. Collision

**Shoutouts to skybird716, thecruelworldwelivein, Guest, Lilybear3121, MsRose91, stuffoflegends, and LilyHiddleston96 for reviewing! You guys are seriously the best.**

**Ok, so this chapter doesn't have any Steve/Emma interaction, but you'll see why in a second. In tonight's installment, we get to see what that SHIELD paper Emma found says, and she tells Lacey the truth. There's also something else in this chapter that happens, but I'm going to preface it by saying please don't hate me!**

**I haven't posted the rewritten Chapter 14 for _Healing Touch _yet, but I promise I'm working on it! I always told myself I'd write one story at a time so I wouldn't overwhelm myself with trying to write more than one, but it seems that I'm working on three all at the same time right now, and I'm definitely spreading myself thin with trying to update both as frequently as I can! =)**

**Ok. I love reading what you guys have to say. Really does keep me motivated to get my updates out quickly!**

**Enjoy! =)**

**(Please don't hate me!)**

* * *

Chapter 10

Steve had been waiting until later that night to call Emma one last time before either of them went to sleep, so when his cell phone rang at 8:38 P.M., and the number was a number he didn't recognize, he was thrown off guard. Out of nowhere, as he stared at the unfamiliar number on his screen, he had a flashback to just last week when he and Grace had nearly been blown to pieces in Chicago, when a number he hadn't recognized had also shown up on his phone then, too. He forced his muscles to relax and his breathing to slow, and he slid the bar across on his phone to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Is this Captain Rogers?" A man was on the other end of the line, but he didn't sound at all like Jackson Marsden. In fact, he didn't sound like a criminal in the slightest; he sounded like a nervous young man who was trying desperately to sound as though he weren't nervous.

"Yes, this is Captain Rogers," Steve replied, a frown creeping onto his face.

"I'm Alex Gallagher. Emma's cousin," the man said. Instantly, a wave of recognition passed over Steve at the mention of the name. Since Emma had always been so careful to keep her Connecticut family away from him, he'd never had the chance to actually meet Alex, but he'd heard Emma talk about him enough to be familiar with the guy.

Steve should've felt better about having received an ID that he recognized, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong; he'd never met Alex, let alone spoken to him, and now he was receiving a phone call at 8:38 P.M. from him. A rising feeling of panic rose in his chest, and he leaned forward onto the kitchen counter in front of him, his elbows resting on the edge.

"Is everything ok?" he asked without even bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

Alex hesitated. "Captain…Em…_Emma_…she was in a car accident earlier tonight. And she's not doing well at all."

* * *

_**Five and a half hours earlier**_

Now that Emma was home, she couldn't exactly remember why she'd avoided it for so long. There was an undeniable sense of comfort that she received from being with her aunt and uncle and her three cousins. Even Laura was familiar enough for Emma to associate her with home and things that made sense.

She walked through the door of her bedroom and shut it behind her. Acting strictly out of habit, she threw herself flat across her bed and closed her eyes at the feel of being in it again. She and Lacey had just gotten back from their lunch in downtown, and she was ready for some quiet time. As much as she loved Lacey's vivacious personality, sometimes she felt as though she needed a few quiet moments to herself to re-focus herself. She always needed those extra moments at the hospital to get herself centered whenever she was thrown headfirst into certain situations, and extended amounts of time with Lacey Carroll definitely qualified as part of that.

Admittedly, part of the reason she wanted time to herself was because she wanted to read what was on that paper. She rolled over onto her back and pulled the sheet out from underneath her pillow, right where she'd left it when she'd run out the door to go to lunch, and she looked at it. There on top was the SHIELD logo she'd gotten to be so familiar with.

Her heart clambered about in her chest, and she swallowed hard. All these years. Her entire life she'd thought that her parents had simply flown planes, but there were all these secrets that they'd left behind them. She'd thought that she was Emma Carroll, daughter of two well-respected aircraft experts, but now, she realized that that image of them she'd always had had ceased to exist the second that Steve had told her the truth about his discoveries.

_There's no going back_, she thought to herself. _Once you read this paper, there is no going back._

And so she took a deep breath to level herself, and she began to read.

**Carroll—**

**Good work on the last mission. When you get a chance, come to my office. I dug up some of those photos I was telling you about from my last trip to Spain. If you and Leah decide to go there for your second honeymoon, I have some great recommendations for you.**

**Pierce**

Emma lowered the piece of paper with a perplexed look on her face. The sheet seemed to tell her so much without having said anything at all, and she couldn't figure out how that had come to be. The majority of the message had been about pictures from Spain with one mention of a mission, and that was it—there was absolutely nothing for her to go on. Feeling a mixture of frustrated, relieved, disappointed, and confused, she read over the message several times.

_Pierce, _she thought, running the name through her brain as she tried to think of who it could possibly be. _Pierce, Pierce, Pierce._

Granted, Pierce was probably before her time. Pierce could have been an agent or anyone under the sun. She didn't even know if Pierce were a first name or a last name. All she had was a note about Spain and a one word name that didn't give her any clues as to what was really going on. She read over it four more times in an attempt to pick up something that maybe she'd lost the first few times but found that there really wasn't anything to pick up at all. Quietly, she sat up and put the note back under her pillow. All of a sudden, she felt like a teenager again; she suddenly had the painful sense that she didn't know what the hell was happening in her life—when it come to her parents or Steve, for that matter—and it reminded her of how she'd felt all throughout high school the way most hormonal teenagers do. An idea sprang to her head, and she quickly jumped off her bed and walked over to her desk where her laptop was sitting.

"Thank God you're addicted to technology," she said out loud to herself, grateful that she'd thought to take her laptop with her the day she'd gone to the Air & Space Museum and subsequently decided to just up and go back home to Connecticut. Eagerly, she carried it back to her bed and sat down as she flipped open the top and began pulling up Safari.

**SHIELD Pierce**

She typed the words into the Google search engine, and she frowned when she saw the results. Alexander Pierce, the head of the World Security Council and a well known name around SHIELD, popped up. She hadn't thought of him at all when she'd seen the signature on the note, but now that she saw the name, she couldn't resign herself to the fact that maybe Alexander Pierce was the same Pierce who'd written the note.

Clicking on his Wikipedia page, she skimmed over it. There was no indication that Pierce would have had any kind of job that would have put him in close interaction with her parents. After all, her parents had been a pilot/navigator team. That was all. Pilot/navigators around SHIELD—if they weren't actual agents—weren't high up on the list of important people. Emma felt a sense of gratefulness towards SHIELD for having hired her straight out of college, thereby eliminating the college graduate struggle of having to search relentlessly for a job, but the organization definitely thrived on a hierarchy. And pilot/navigators were quite low on that hierarchy.

Alexander Pierce couldn't have been the one to write the note, Emma decided. However, as she continued looking through the results on Google, she wasn't getting any other leads. Everything went back to Alexander Pierce, even though the Pierce connection didn't make sense. A knock on the door startled her, and she jumped in surprise. She'd been so lost in concentration that she'd lost all track of where she was. Quickly, she exited the page she was on and tried to look innocent.

"Yeah?" she called out. Lacey turned the knob and opened the door.

"Hey, sorry. Just wanted to let you know that Alex called and said the boys are stealing you away tonight. Well, the boys and Laura," she said with a smile. "Most likely, that means pizza and wine at their place."

Emma grinned happily. She'd been wanting time with just her cousins. Even though Laura wasn't technically a cousin, she'd been around for so long that it just seemed natural for her to be a part of the cousin reunion as well. "Sounds good to me. They know the quickest way to my heart. Pizza and wine."

"Yeah, I think it'll be good for all of you to get a chance to bond again." Lacey crossed into the room and sat on the edge of Emma's bed. "You have no idea how happy it makes each and every one of us to have you back home again. Even if it's just for a short little visit."

"I'm happy to be back," Emma said, and she smiled in an attempt to keep things light. She could always tell whenever a conversation was about to get serious, and she knew that Lacey was about to take the conversation to that place Emma had been trying to avoid.

"Three and a half years is a long time, Em. The last time we saw you was right before Steve came into the picture, and we helped you move into your apartment. That's a long time. A very long time. We've missed out on parts of your life we'll never get to share with you. I didn't even know you were seeing someone until you and Steve had been together for a few months." Lacey's voice was quiet and gentle, but Emma could hear the hurt in it. This was the exact conversation she hadn't been wanting to have, but it appeared that it was inevitable.

"I know. I'm sorry, Aunt Lacey," she said softly, keeping her eyes steady on her aunt. "As soon as I was out of college, I just…I needed time away from here. Whenever I'm here, I always think about my parents. I mean, I can't even drive to WalMart without passing the cemetery where they're buried. Being here is a constant reminder of them, and I needed time away from that."

"Em…" Lacey looked down at her hands and sighed as she tried to find the right words for how to express what she was thinking. "When Thomas and Leah were first killed, and we found out we were your legal guardians, Mason and I did briefly discuss moving somewhere new. Long story short, though, we decided to stay here because it would've been too much to uproot the boys, our lives, and yours. At the time, we thought you needed familiarity. Something that you knew and understood so you could keep that connection with your parents and your old life. We…never once did it even occur to us that we were hurting you instead of helping you."

"I'm sorry. I just needed some time away," Emma said. "But I'm back now, though. You're right. Three and a half years is a very long time to be away from my family."

"Why _are_ you here?" Lacey looked up and gazed at Emma, her expression soft. "Honey, I love having you here. You know I do. But you've fought coming back for so long, and now you're here with no warning, no explanation…nothing. What's going on?"

Emma paused. This was the moment of truth. Did she tell Lacey about her parents' involvement with SHIELD? Did she tell her aunt about Peggy Carter's reappearance? Did she spill her heart about how she had felt her heart splinter a little bit when she'd walked in and seen Steve studying the agent's files? Or did she just keep her mouth shut and say she needed closure and time away? She swallowed hard, and she slowly breathed in and then let it out.

"I'm looking for answers," she said finally.

"Answers?" Lacey repeated with a confused look entering her sea-colored eyes. Emma hesitated, and then she nodded. There was no going back now.

"Aunt Lacey, did you know that my parents worked for SHIELD?" she asked carefully. Lacey's eyes widened, and a look of shock came over her face. Shaking her head, she stared at Emma wide eyes.

"SHIELD?" she asked.

"Steve was assigned a mission that had to do with my parents and how they died. They were working for SHIELD as a pilot/navigator team until they were killed," Emma explained. She'd rehearsed how she would say it if she ever made the decision to tell her aunt, but as the words left her mouth, she felt that she hadn't really touched the surface of the issue at all. Lacey continued to stare at her, and she ran a hand over her hair in realization as her eyes seemed to make a connection.

"It makes sense," she said. "I don't know why I'm surprised. I always…I had this—this _feeling_ that Tom was involved with something he shouldn't have been because he was always so secretive about what he did. He and your mom were gone so often, and you were here…SHIELD? They were working for SHIELD?"

"Yes," Emma replied. "There's documentation of it. Steve told me everything."

"I was thinking FBI or CIA…not SHIELD." Lacey sighed and ran her hand over her hair again, the way she always did whenever she felt stressed or confused.

"You suspected?" Emma asked, a hint of accusation creeping into her voice.

"I suspected that your parents were wrapped up in something secretive, but I had no idea what. Tom never said anything about needing to be quiet about his job—he just was. He didn't talk about it, and neither did Leah. But I always got a strange vibe off the whole thing. It just makes so much sense now," Leah replied, frowning. "Is that why you came home?"

"I wanted to look through their things. See if there was any indication of it. I found this earlier," Emma answered. She reached under her pillow and pulled the note out for Lacey to look at. Lacey took it in her hands, and she read it, her eyebrows furrowing together as she read over it. When she was done, she glanced up at Emma with a confused look.

"This talks about Spain," she said bluntly. Emma raised her eyebrows and nodded.

"Yep. No help whatsoever," she said. "But whoever this Pierce guy is…he knew my parents. Most likely my dad. Did my dad ever mention anything to you about a guy named Pierce? I Googled SHIELD and Pierce, but the only thing that came up was Alexander Pierce, and that's the guy who's head of the World Security Council."

"Pierce...nope. Nothing. Like I said, your dad really didn't talk about his job at all. All he would say about it was that he worked for Delta. Whenever he needed you to stay here for a few days, he'd call and ask, but that was seriously it." Lacey thoughtfully paused. "Em…what did you mean when you said that Steve was on a mission looking into how they died?"

And Emma did something she'd never done to her Aunt Lacey.

She lied.

"I don't know," she said with a convincingly confused shrug. "That's all Steve said. SHIELD is just as secretive as my parents apparently were."

"Do you think there's any sign of foul play? All the reports we read said that the crash was caused due to an engine malfunction. Do you think anyone could've done this? Why else would they have sent Captain America in?" Lacey asked. And again, Emma shrugged and lied.

"I don't know," she said. "There are a lot of unanswered questions. And Steve does all kinds of missions. It's complicated."

"He's pretty high-level within SHIELD, right?" Lacey asked.

Emma nodded. "He's Level Eight. Not quite as high as Grace Marks. Grace is Level Nine, and she's the one that they send in for the really dangerous missions since she's basically indestructible. Even more so than Steve."

What Emma didn't include was the fact that Grace had been Steve's partner on that particular mission. Lacey didn't need to know that there had been a man who had targeted her brother and sister-in-law—knowing that they had been SHIELD was all she needed to know. And it was in that moment, that Emma realized what it must be like to be a SHIELD agent. She was purposely withholding information from someone who wanted very much to know all the answers. In a way, it was like a flashback to the time that she'd been commissioned by Agent Coulson to get information on Steve's mental and emotional states without Steve's awareness of it. She'd had two tastes of what it was like to be a SHIELD agent, and she'd hated both times.

"SHIELD. Tom was working for SHIELD." Lacey let out a sigh. "So you're back for answers."

"Yes," Emma confirmed. She paused and looked down at her cell phone that was lying next to her. "Steve and I…we're also having some…some issues. So I came back to just...de-stress from that, too."

"What do you mean you and Steve are having issues?" Lacey asked, her mom voice coming in strong as she scooted forward a little bit on the bed. Emma sighed, and she looked up, her face tired and almost embarrassed about being upset over it.

"Peggy Carter's at a nursing home in D.C., and he wants to go visit her," she slowly explained. "And I don't want him to, but I know that he needs to, and we haven't been doing very well because of it. He knows I'm upset, but we don't really…we haven't exactly talked about it."

"Why?" Lacey asked. Emma was silent. She didn't know why. Every time the subject had come up, she'd just instantly shut down without wanting to discuss it. She knew enough about herself to know that she didn't want Steve to know how she truly felt about all of it because if he _did_ know how much it upset her, he wouldn't want to go. But he needed to. Emma knew that Steve needed that closure, even if he wouldn't admit it to himself, and she refused to be the one standing in the way of his closure.

"Because I'll start crying if we do," she finally said with a lame half-smile, half-shrug as she tried to cover up how she really felt about all of it.

"Oh, Emma," Lacey sighed, and she reached out and smoothed the side of Emma's blonde head. "Sweetheart, you're allowed to cry in front of him."

"It's not that. He's seen me cry plenty of times. Usually during _Titanic _or some movie, but…I don't know. It's stupid for me to be upset. Peggy's old now, so I don't think he'd feel the need to leave me for her, but—but what if he remembers that he was happier in the 1940s, and I'm just not cutting it for him?" The words spilled out of Emma's mouth before she could think to stop them. And there they were. They were out there in the open—verbalized in a way that she hadn't allowed them to be before.

"Emmy, you listen to me." Lacey scooted forward even more and looked hard at her niece, seeing how torn up the young woman was over the whole thing. "I've seen the way he looks at you. Maybe not in person since, well, I haven't met him yet, but I've seen enough pictures and interviews to see that that man loves you. If you didn't cut it for him, do you think he'd still stick around? After everything you've told me about him, he's a good man. Do you really think he'd just drop you out of the blue?"

"I don't want him to," Emma admitted. "I don't want to lose him."

"So tell him." Lacey patted Emma's knee, and she stood up. "I'm going to see what I can dig up of your father's stuff from the basement. I have some of his things back from when he was first hired by Delta, which I'm guessing was actually SHIELD, so maybe there'll be something down there."

"I'll keep researching," Emma said. She paused, and she squinted her eyes at her aunt. "Thank you, Aunt Lacey."

"Any time, sweetheart. I'm here for you. Remember that." Lacey leaned forward and kissed Emma on the forehead before turning and leaving. Emma closed her eyes, remembering how her mom had done that when she was little. She remembered Leah tucking her into bed every night and kissing her on the forehead one last time before she went to sleep. Opening her eyes, Emma sat still for a moment. The memories were always there, but being at the house made them come more frequently.

Carefully, she pulled her laptop towards her, and she began researching.

* * *

By the time Emma finished researching, she was more than ready for an evening with her cousins. Neither she nor Lacey had found anything else having to do with SHIELD, so after a long day that had basically meant they'd come up short, she was particularly pumped up to spend time with her three main men.

Lacey had given her the ok to borrow her car, and so Emma had driven the short route to Alex and Laura's apartment—funny how she hadn't been there for years, but she still remembered how to get there, she realized—and she'd entered her oldest cousin's apartment with the intention of spending quality time with him, his girlfriend, and his brothers.

And that was exactly what happened.

"Wait, wait, wait. What about that party at the soccer house we went to my senior year? You got pretty drunk there. I _definitely _remember that happening," Alex insisted passionately after Emma had declared that she'd never gotten drunk and thrown up when visiting either Alex or Evan at college the way that they had whenever they'd gone to visit her. Somehow the conversation had gone from twenty-first birthday celebrations to college parties, and Emma couldn't remember how they'd made that transition, though she didn't mind since the subject brought back good memories for her.

"I'm like, 99% sure I didn't puke, though. Those were your teammates—I wasn't going to puke all over the soccer house," Emma protested. "I got drunk, but I didn't throw up."

"Really? Huh, maybe you're right." Alex shrugged and picked up a slice of pizza. "Actually, believe it or not, Joe—remember Joe? He was one of the forwards my sophomore year? Creative writing major? Anyway, Joe just submitted a manuscript to my company. Weird blast from the past."

"Joe Franklin?" Evan asked in surprise.

Alex nodded. "The one and only. He was a damn good forward, but I don't remember being impressed by his writing then. He's pretty good now, though. He'll probably get a contract with us."

"What's he write?" Dave asked.

"Thrillers. Real good shit, too."

"Wait, he was a good writer in college," Laura argued. "I had some of my liberal arts classes with him, and I always liked peer-reviewing his papers because he was good."

"I mean, he was _good_, but he's better now," Alex clarified. Suddenly, Laura grinned, and she turned to look at Emma with a realization in her eyes.

"Actually, Em, I remember him writing a paper on Captain America. I don't know how I forgot about that until now. It was our freshman year, and we had to take that class—Alex, remember that godawful class that was focused solely on how to write research papers?"

"God, I totally forgot about that fucking class."

"Me, too. Well, Joe wrote a paper about Captain America and his influence on modern military tactics. I can't believe I forgot that. Does Joe know Emma's dating our good ole Cap?" Laura asked with a glance towards Alex.

Alex snorted. "Of course he does. She's 'America's sweetheart.'"

"Jesus, don't say that." Emma wrinkled her nose in displeasure. "I hate seeing that shit in the papers."

Since the Battle of New York, the media had taken to calling her America's sweetheart, and she loathed the nickname with a passion. That was where most of her reputation as the innocent good girl came from, she felt. Steve was known across the nation as the good guy who always wanted to do the right thing, and in a way, that was true. But since he had that rep, she had the rep that she was the exact same way sincere there was no way on Earth that the pure Captain America would spend three years of his life dating someone who was anything less than good.

"I think it's cute," Evan replied with a smirk. Emma rolled her eyes with a disgusted look on her face.

"It's not. It's a bullshit nickname," she said. She lifted her eyebrows and smirked back at her cousin. "See, the media doesn't even think I swear."

"Grace Marks swears," he pointed out.

"So? She's engaged to Tony Stark, and she's a total badass," Emma pointed out. "The media completely expects her to swear—that's part of her appeal to the public. But _my _appeal is how sweet and good I am, just like Steve."

"Have you gone to the Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian yet?" Laura asked. "I've read amazing articles about it. How far away do you and Steve live from the Mall again?"

"Not that far. You can take the Metro there, but you can also walk, though that takes a while longer to get there. And no, we haven't gone to the exhibit yet. My friends have said some great things about it, so we'll have to stop in and check it out at some point," Emma diplomatically replied. She didn't see any need to include the fact that she'd gone without him, and that was the visit that had triggered her need to come home and be with them.

"Steve hasn't seen his own exhibit yet? Wouldn't he want to?" Evan asked with a confused look on his face. Emma shrugged vaguely.

"There's a lot of stuff there that could bring back some painful memories for him," she answered. "When he's ready, he'll go."

"You guys have been together for a while. When's he going to make an honest woman out of you?" Alex teased. Emma's face drew downward, and her gaze hardened as she stared at him.

"Yeah, what about you?" she asked sharply. Laura's head jerked back in surprise, and Emma wanted to cover her face as soon as the sharp rebuke had tumbled out from between her lips. She liked Laura—she really did, and by snapping back at Alex, she'd wound up hurting Laura's feelings, especially since she knew that Laura was much more eager to get married than Alex was. Sighing, she ran a hand over her face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. That came out of nowhere. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Laura said quickly, waving her hand dismissively to let the blonde woman know that she genuinely meant it. Emma looked down at the empty paper plate in her hands, and she leaned forward to set it on the coffee table in front of her. The room seemed to get very small, and she felt her face growing hot. Quietly, with all eyes on her, she stood up.

"I'm going to go out on the balcony and get some fresh air." Without waiting for an answer, she turned and quickly walked to the sliding glass door that led to the balcony, and she opened it, stepping out into the fresh air. As she slid the door shut behind her, she deeply inhaled the night air, and she walked out towards the railing. Alex and Laura lived on ninth floor of the building, and even though the view wasn't particularly nice—it was mainly just an overview of the parking lot and the surrounding buildings—she was grateful to even have that view instead of the looks on her cousins' faces as she'd snapped in front of them just then.

She didn't known where it'd come from. It'd just been bubbling up deep down, and before she'd thought about it, the retort had been out there, and she hadn't been able to take it back. Emma wasn't the kind of person lie to herself, so she didn't try to tell herself that it was because she was stressed out about the situation with her parents or because she missed Steve—she knew that her outburst had come from her own current insecurities in her relationship with Steve. She wasn't sure at all where she stood with him, and having Alex ask her when they were going to get married had just been the wrong button to press that night.

Emma wasn't under any false hopes when it came to Steve. She didn't expect him to marry her just because they'd been together for three years. If Emma were honest with herself—which she always was—she could admit that she wasn't in the right place in her life to be in a relationship. She wasn't ready to officially settle down with Steve and be his American wife. She knew that basically, they were already a bit married. They lived together, and they were committed to each other, but there was an official feeling to marriage that Emma didn't believe that she or Steve was ready for just yet.

The sliding glass door opened behind her, and she closed her eyes, not wanting to deal with Alex there to reprimand her about her meltdown. Her head dropped down to her chest as quiet footsteps approached her.

"Hey." It was Dave.

Emma looked up at him, her expression slightly embarrassed. "Hey."

"Don't look so down," he offered. "Alex is actually feeling pretty shitty."

"Really?" Emma was mildly surprised—her hotheaded cousin wasn't the type to usually let a comment like that go unchallenged, particularly when it'd clearly hurt Laura's feelings.

"Yeah. He knows something's going on with you," Dave replied casually. He crossed towards the railing of the balcony to stand next to her. He glanced down at his older but shorter cousin and caught her surprised face, and he gave her a half-smile. "We know you better than you think we do. You wouldn't come home unless something was wrong."

"All this time I thought I was a hard map to read," Emma mumbled out loud with a sigh. She leaned forward on the railing and looked out over the dark parking lot beneath her. "I'm really that obvious?"

"Yep. Just because you've been away for almost four years doesn't mean that we know you any less," Dave replied. Emma stilled at his words. He wasn't accusing her of anything, but there was still something beneath his statement that evoked a strong sense of guilt within her solar plexus.

"Are you guys mad at me?" she asked tentatively. "Because I haven't come home until now?"

"Not really. We're just happy to see you," Dave answered in a matter of fact tone. "At this point, we'll take whatever we can get."

Instead of feeling better, Emma felt worse. She let out a slow breath and leaned over so that her forehead rested against the top of her hands. "I'm sorry, Dave."

"Don't be. You have shit going on."

"I feel terrible. I didn't know it was that big of a deal."

Dave uncharacteristically snorted and gave her a weird look. "Em, you're a part of our family. Of course it's a big deal when we don't see you for close to four years. You don't stop being family just because you aren't home anymore."

Emma lifted her head and looked up at her younger cousin and studied him. He'd always been smart, but she couldn't remember when he'd made the transition from smart to wise, and then it hit her that she wouldn't have even noticed it in the first place because she hadn't been around for it. She lifted a hand and tucked a piece of her blonde hair behind her ear.

"You're right," she finally said. "I missed your graduation last year. Didn't even know Aunt Lacey and Uncle Mason redid the kitchen. I've missed a lot of shit, and I didn't even realize I was missing it."

"Is it because of Steve?" Dave asked. Emma looked sharply at him, and her face took on a defensive look.

"No. Not at all. Steve isn't to blame for any of it. It's all me," she said firmly. "I didn't come home because there are too many reminders of my parents here, and I needed time away from that pain. It's not because of Steve at all."

"Ok. We've all been wondering," Dave said by way of apology. He was quiet for a few seconds, and when he spoke again, his voice was gentle. "I didn't know you had reminders of your parents here."

"They're everywhere." Emma's quiet tone mirrored his. Comfortable silence passed between the two, and she finally stepped away from the railing. "I'm going to head home. I feel terrible for being a bitch to Laura, and I don't think I'm in the mood to pretend everything's ok."

"You sure?" Dave asked, a frown creeping over his face and settling into his grey eyes. Emma nodded.

"Yeah. I'm just…I'm going to go. There's no sense in my sticking around tonight. You guys will have plenty more opportunities to see me. Remember, I don't know when I'm going back just yet, so…I'm here for a bit." She forced a smile at him.

"Ok. Do you want me to ride back with you? Evan and I rode together, and he can swing by Mom and Dad's to get me when he's ready to leave," Dave suggested. Emma thought about saying no, but as she looked at her younger cousin, she couldn't help but see the face of the young boy she'd always wanted to protect when she was little. He'd been a sensitive little kid, and she'd felt the responsibility along with Alex and Evan to keep him safe and protected, and when she saw how hopeful he looked as he offered to ride back with her, she couldn't tell him no.

"Ok," she said. "Let's go say our goodbyes then."

And when she went in and told Alex and Laura that she was heading out for the night, neither of them stopped her. Not because they were still thinking about how she'd snapped at them but because they knew something was up—Dave had been right when he'd said that they still knew her enough to know when something was bothering her.

After Evan agreed to stop by Lacey and Mason's house to pick up Dave, Emma and Dave went downstairs to Lacey Carroll's car and got inside. Neither of them said much of anything; the silence was comfortable between them, the way it always had been. Emma also couldn't think of anything to say that would lessen the guilt she felt about having left her younger cousin behind.

However, the drive wasn't silent for long. Ever the music lover, Emma turned the radio on. "All Star" by Smash Mouth came playing through the speakers, and a smile split across her face as she heard it. She turned to Dave in excitement.

"Oh, my God, this was my song in high school!" she exclaimed. "I haven't heard this in so long."

Dave grinned back at her. "Shit, I haven't heard it, either. I forgot I used to love this."

Emma had flashbacks to all the times she'd jammed out to it with her high school friends, and her smile widened. Despite the pain that lingered from her parents' ever present memories, she had to admit that she had good memories there in Manchester, Connecticut. She remembered dancing around to Smash Mouth with her friends, friends that she hadn't talked to in such a long time that she'd even forgotten that they'd been friends in the first place.

"You know, we should watch _Shrek _again at some point. It's been a while since we—"

Emma didn't get to finish her sentence. Right as she started to pass under the green light of the intersection, a large SUV came out of nowhere. She didn't see it in time as it sped towards them lightning-quick, and when she finally saw the lights coming fast towards her on the driver's side, it was too late for her to have any kind of reaction; she didn't even feel fear.

The last thing she heard before the car slammed into the door, before her head smashed against the steering wheel, was the radio singing to her, "And all that glitters is gold…"

* * *

_**Thirty minutes later**_

"Is everything ok?" Steve felt his throat tightening. He didn't know what to expect, and he felt a mixture of not wanting to hear Alex's response while _needing _to hear it. He needed to hear Alex Gallagher tell him that Emma was ok.

There was a pause on the other line as Alex hesitated. And then he spoke the words that made Steve's entire world stop in one horrifying moment.

"Captain…Em…_Emma_…she was in a car accident earlier tonight. And she's not doing well at all."


	11. Aftermath

**Shoutouts to thecruelworldwelivein, Lilybear3121, TheDreamerSetFree, MsRose91, ninjaonfire, KD Skywalker, stuffoflegends, LilyHiddleston96, and LadyFelton1994 for reviewing! Wow, this is the most I've heard back from you guys, and it's amazing!**

**I'm so glad y'all don't hate me. This chapter is very emotional, but there are also good moments. In the flashback sequences, that's what Emma's seeing in her head, just as an FYI. The plot continues to thicken.**

**OK, LISTEN UP. THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT. There's someone on mibba . com who's plagiarizing my story _Healing Touch_. This user is literally using parts verbatim from my story, and I'm so unbelievably upset over this. I work so hard to write these stories, and to know that someone is plagiarizing them absolutely breaks my heart. Please, please, please do not read this person's story, and if you have an account on mibba, it would mean a lot to me if you would report the story and the writer for plagiarism. Her story is about a SHIELD nurse named Emma who gets assigned to take care of Steve when he wakes up from the ice. As you can see, it's the exact same story with some changes she made. I've been so upset all day when I found out. Major shoutout to NikNakPattyWak for messaging me to tell me. I'm just unspeakably upset over someone else trying to steal my work.**

**If you want extra emotions while listening to this, listen to "Ghosts that We Knew" by Mumford & Sons.**

**Please continue leaving me your thoughts.**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 11

Being Captain America came with certain privileges, though Steve usually made the conscious decision to not use these privileges. He'd had such an abnormal life—not that that was entirely a bad thing—thus far that he tried to have a life that somewhat resembled normalcy. But today he used his Captain America privilege to his advantage, and he didn't think twice about doing it.

He sat very still on the airplane he'd just been waved onto. His Captain America privilege had given him a free airline ticket on the first plane out to Connecticut, and he hadn't even been forced to go through the security line. Literally, the TSA had taken one look at him and waved him through. Steve wasn't proud of himself for using his role as Captain America to get free things or to get an easy break in life, but at that moment, he didn't give a fuck.

Ever since he'd hung up from Alex Gallagher, he'd had to consciously remind himself to breathe. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever had to actually tell himself, "Inhale, now exhale. Inhale, exhale." Emma was in the hospital. Emma was in the hospital, and she wasn't ok. Alex hadn't told him the details over the phone—all he'd said was that Emma was in really bad shape, and if Steve could get there, to do so immediately.

Emma. His Emma was hurt, and he couldn't be there with her. He couldn't hold her hand and feel her pulse as it continued to show him that she was still alive. His throat grew tight again as that all too familiar feeling of panic swelled up inside his chest. Inhaling deeply, he tried to calm himself, but he couldn't. All he could think about was Emma and the last words he'd said to her; all he could picture was the last time he'd seen her.

He was still so in shock that he hadn't had a chance to do anything else but grab some things he needed before walking out the door and jumping onto his motorcycle with only one destination in mind: the airport that would take him to Connecticut. The airport that would take him to Emma. Swallowing drily, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. The airline worker had automatically given him the highest level class section you could fly in on this plane, and he thankfully had a seat all to himself. He wasn't sure that he would've been able to keep up niceties with anyone had he been forced to sit with someone. How could he think of anything but Emma?

He hadn't even told Grace about what happened. Other than Emma, Grace was the first person he told anything to. As much as she could be like Tony, she truly was his best friend in the modern century; she hadn't been lying when she'd said that to him last night. She'd been telling the truth. Grace understood him in a way that not even Emma could understand—she knew what it was like to be injected and enhanced. She understood the feeling of having her cells regenerated inside her body. She just got it, and he appreciated her all the more for her ability to be a good friend to both him and Emma. He needed to tell her at some point; she'd want to know. Besides, if he didn't talk to someone, he felt as though he would explode. But now wasn't the time to focus on that. Now he could only think about getting to Emma.

He couldn't get to her fast enough.

* * *

**_October 2013_**

Emma blearily opened her eyes and smiled at the man above her as he peppered kisses across her face. Laughing softly, she tried to pull the covers back over her more securely, but he was beneath the covers with her, and she was only succeeding in covering the both of them up even farther. She'd gotten into the habit of brushing her teeth half-asleep since Steve wouldn't kiss her until he'd brushed his, and she thought it was only considerate to return the favor, so even though she'd already been out of bed to brush her teeth this morning, she didn't really feel awake until Steve slipped back between the blankets with her and began lavishing kisses over her.

"Rise and shine, birthday girl," Steve greeted, his voice deep and rumbly the way it was whenever he woke up.

"It's my birthday. Don't I get to sleep in?" she asked, refusing to open her eyes.

"It's 10," Steve offered, as if that were supposed to make her feel better. "It's time to get up, lazy bones."

"You're cuter when you're asleep." Emma finally opened her eyes fully, and she squinted her sea-colored eyes at her gorgeous, blond boyfriend, her mouth twisting into a pout as she realized she hated how damn attractive he looked. He smirked at her and leaned down to kiss her on the lips, his mouth soft and warm and inviting.

"You're cute all the time. Hell, you're beautiful. A regular knockout," he murmured against her lips. Emma couldn't hide the grin that came over her face. She loved hearing Steve use 1940s slang. He'd gotten out of the habit the longer he'd been awake in the 2010s, but sometimes he would slip back into it, and she absolutely loved how the words easily came out of his mouth. She knew he was his most relaxed when he let the familiar-to-him phrases fall out so simply.

"You're just saying that to me because I'm 25 now," she mumbled. He went to speak, but she wrapped her arms around his neck, effectively locking his mouth against hers in a deep kiss. She felt his lips spread into a wide grin as he kissed her, and she couldn't help but smile back.

"You were a knockout at 24, and you were a knockout at 23, and you were a knockout before I even met you." Steve pulled back and gazed down at her, his blue eyes slightly darker than they'd been before. A sigh escaped her lips as she felt one of his strong hands slide down her waist and rest on her hip, and she closed her eyes.

"This is a great way to wake up," she breathed. Suddenly, he pulled away, leaving her feeling cold and shocked. Her eyes snapped open, and she stared at him in disbelief. He grinned back at her with such excitement and boyish delight that had she not been left feeling so unfulfilled, she wouldn't have been able to resist him.

"Come on! Get up. We have things to do," Steve urged. She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

"I don't think I've ever seen you this excited about anything. Like, _ever_," she stated. "I don't know if I want to know what it is that we're going to do today if it's more important than interrupting that really great thing we just had going on."

He leaned forward and kissed her sweetly on the mouth one last time before pulling back to smirk at her. "That's for later, sweetheart."

Emma's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. Playful Steve was always a treat, but playful adult-rated Steve was an even greater rarity that she enjoyed. Sighing dramatically, she slid out from beneath the covers and started walking to the bathroom, Steve's low laughter behind her serving as the soundtrack of her defeat.

* * *

At first, Steve wouldn't have been able to pick out any of the Gallagher cousins from a crowd, but once he made eye contact with Alex Gallagher and saw dark grey eyes staring back at him, he knew he would've been able to tell that Alex was related to Emma in some way, shape, or form.

"Alex Gallagher?" he asked, his voice serious and professional as he approached the young man in the lobby of the hospital. Alex's grey eyes scanned over Steve's face, and he nodded, sticking his hand out in return.

"Captain Rogers?" he asked back. Steve firmly nodded and accepted the handshake.

"Steve," he corrected. "What happened? How is she?"

"Her room's back here," Alex said before answering Steve's questions, and he started walking down the hall with Steve falling into step beside him. "We don't…we don't really have many answers right now. The police are still trying to figure out what exactly happened, but…from what they've told us, she and—and Dave were blindsided by an SUV. Hit the side Em was on, and…she's in critical condition right now."

"Is she awake?" Steve asked hopefully.

"No. She's been put into a medically-induced coma because her brain—it's…it's swelled up, and there might be permanent damage. We don't know yet," Alex replied. Steve felt his heart constricting for the billionth time since he'd received the phone call from the older cousin that he knew meant the world to Emma.

"When will she be ok to wake up?" he asked.

"They didn't say," Alex quietly replied as he slowed in front of the elevator and pressed the button to call it. Steve felt as though he weren't really there. Surely this wasn't his life. This couldn't be happening to him; his world had already fallen apart once before when he'd woken up from the ice, but Emma had been there to put the pieces back in place. He had no idea what the hell he was going to do if Emma couldn't be there to make everything ok again. That was what she did—she brought light into his life, a light that he hadn't known he'd been living without until she'd walked into his room for the very first time. When Emma was around, everything seemed to make a little bit more sense.

The elevator door slid open, and both Steve and Alex stepped on. Steve watched as Alex pressed 15, noticing the little things about Alex that suggested he was, indeed, related to Emma. They had a similar chin and cheekbones, and if Steve looked hard enough, he could see a resemblance in the way they purposefully held their mouths shut whenever they were overwhelmed by something. Silently, the two men rode the elevator to the 15th floor. The doors slid open, and that was when Steve thought to ask about Emma's other cousin who'd been in the crash.

"Is Dave all right?" he asked. Alex nodded.

"Yeah. He's got a broken arm, some bruised ribs, and a concussion, but he's otherwise ok. He's staying overnight, though, just to make sure there's nothing more serious going on. It's Em that's…" His voice trailed off, and he looked down as he stepped out of the elevator, Steve following behind him. He cleared his throat and looked back up. "She speaks highly of you."

"The same for you," Steve returned. Alex nodded his head towards an open area with chairs and lifted a hand to limply gesture towards it.

"Here we are," he said. "Everyone's over there. Only one at a time allowed in the room." He paused and looked over at the blond man. "My mom…she'll be a bit, uh, a bit—"

"I understand," Steve quietly replied, and in that moment, the two men seemed to come to an understanding with each other. Alex nodded, his eyes falling downward again, and he led the way. When Steve saw the Gallagher/Carroll family, he saw Emma's face in all of them. Swallowing hard, he felt his stomach start to churn. Instead of turning and running, however, he clenched his jaw, and he walked over to them. A woman with dark hair looked up, and he nearly lost his breath at the sight of her eyes. Emma's eyes.

"You must be Steve," she quietly breathed. Standing up, she didn't wait for him to reply; she just pulled him into a tight hug. For a few seconds, Steve stood still in shock—he'd never known how to handle sudden physical affection like this unless it'd come from Emma, but he recovered himself and wrapped his arms around her gently to return the gesture of comfort. "I'm Lacey, Emma's aunt."

"Ma'am," he said politely. She pulled back and looked at him with worried, heartbroken eyes that looked so much like Emma's that he had to swallow again.

"I wish we were meeting under different circumstances, Steve," she softly said.

"Me, too," he answered, his blue eyes sincere. Lacey stared at him for a few seconds. Her eyes traced over his face as if she were desperately searching for some kind of answer that she was convinced he had, but she seemed to come up short. She let go of his arms and stepped away from him, her face warm and kind the way Emma had described it.

"My husband Mason is in with Emma right now. You already met Alex, and this is his girlfriend Laura, and, uh, my other son is down sitting with Dave right now." She paused, tears filling her eyes. "We didn't want him to be alone."

Steve shook hands with Laura, being particularly careful not to grip her hand too tightly. He released her hand and looked back at Lacey. "May I see Emma now?"

He knew that he was being rude; had it been any other circumstance, he would've kept up the polite conversation with the family, but right now he just could not focus on anything but Emma. Thankfully, Lacey didn't seem to be offended or put off by it. If anything, she looked understanding.

"Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Her room's right down this way." Lacey gently took Steve's arm in her hand as if he were a part of her large, intricate family, and she started walking down the hallway. Even though Steve hadn't been around Emma's aunt for very long, he had a feeling that this was the way she treated everyone—she was warm and welcoming, all-inclusive. "She's only been out of surgery for about 15 minutes."

"Surgery," Steve blankly repeated.

Lacey slowed, and she looked up at Steve with a look on her face that Steve wished she weren't wearing. "Steve…just to warn you…she doesn't look the same."

"What?" Steve asked, feeling his breath catch in the back of his throat.

"Her—her face." Lacey made an unclear gesture with her hand up around her face. "She looks rough. The doctors said the swelling will go down, and the cuts will heal, and she won't have any scars, either."

"Ma'am." Steve stopped in the hall, and he gazed evenly at the woman who had raised Emma, the woman who had gotten to see Emma grow and flourish as a teenager and as a young woman. "How bad is she? Tell me the truth."

Lacey swallowed, but she didn't look away from him. "It's bad, Steve. They're not sure if she's going to wake up."

"But Alex said they put her in a medically induced coma. People wake up from that, right? I don't know much about medicine, but from all the _ER_ episodes Em's shown me, people in medically induced comas wake up," Steve insisted. Lacey's lips pressed tightly together, and she nodded slowly.

"Yes, they do," she said softly. "But even when the doctors take her off the medicine, they said they're not sure if…if she'll wake up."

Steve stared at Lacey in silence, and then he slowly nodded. "Ok."

"I wouldn't put much thought into it. Doctors are frequently wrong. Our Emma's strong. She's a strong girl—she's survived a lot." Lacey gently squeezed Steve's wrist, and then she let go. "We've got to keep remembering that. Jesus, she survived a goddamn plane crash. She can survive a car accident."

Before Steve could respond, Lacey began walking again, but not before Steve saw the tears welling up in her eyes. Quietly, he followed her until she slowed outside one of the rooms and looked back at him. She knocked lightly on the door; inside, Steve could see a man sitting by a bedside, but he couldn't see Emma. His heart started pounding the way it always did whenever he knew he was about to see her. This time, however, his heart was pounding to keep from shattering.

The man in the chair turned around and saw Lacey and Steve in the doorway. Swiftly, he got up and crossed to the door, opening it and stepping out. His gaze immediately went to Steve. "You must be Steve Rogers. I'm Em's uncle. Call me Mason."

"Call me Steve," Steve parroted. Mason's face was calm and shut off as he stepped aside and gestured towards the room.

"You can go in. I'm sure you want to see her," he said. Steve blinked, completely still for a few seconds, and then he nodded, a delayed reaction. He could feel Lacey's and Mason's eyes on him, and he knew that he was supposed to move, but he couldn't just yet. Emma was inside; she was inside, and she was waiting for him, but she wouldn't be awake. She would be battered and bruised, harmed by something that he hadn't been able to protect her from.

Eventually, he found the initiative to move, and he took it. He placed his hand on the doorknob, twisted it, pushed the door open, and stepped inside. The room was lit with those godawful fluorescent lights that hospitals always had; it struck him as a sick kind of irony that he was used to the terrible lighting because of how often he'd been to the hospital to visit Emma. And yet, there he was visiting her again, but this visit wasn't to take her out to lunch or to surprise her. This visit was a _real _visit, the kind of visit he'd never wanted to make again.

Quietly, he crossed into the room. _One more step. One more step_, he repeated in his head. He just needed to take one more step, and then he'd see her.

And he did.

Lacey hadn't been kidding when she'd told him that Emma wouldn't look the same. Emma's usually slender face with high cheekbones and a small, lovely sloped nose was now swollen and bruised with cuts all over it. He could see tiny stitches lining the particularly deep ones. She had a ventilator attached to her, doing the breathing for her. When he saw her, he froze.

Emma didn't look anything at all like the Emma he knew, but he would've known that it was her anywhere. Just by looking at the way her eyes rested in their closed position, Steve knew that he would've been able to pick her out even looking the way she did. His whole body felt numb, and he was certain he forgot how to breathe.

_One more step. One more step. One more step_.

He slowly crossed into the room and towards the chair before sinking down into it as if all the energy had completely drained out of his body. Completely oblivious to his presence, Emma remained unconscious. As Steve stared at her, he felt as though he were outside his body looking in—this couldn't be his life. He couldn't actually be here in this hospital looking at Emma's unconscious body. This had to be one of those shitty movies she liked, the kind of shitty movies that were wonderful but were so sad that you hated them. He'd never understood why she loved them so much.

But now he understood.

"Hi, honey," he said out loud. His voice was hollow and choked all at the same time. He scooted to the edge of his chair and reached out with his hand to touch hers. Irrationally, he was afraid that her hand would be cold, signifying that she was dead. But as his fingers closed around hers, her skin was nothing but warm. Closing his eyes, he let out the deep breath he hadn't even known he'd drawn in. "Oh, God. Em…you scared me there."

He tried to laugh, but it fell flat, and suddenly he realized that that was how life would be without Emma. If he had to try to exist without this woman who brought sunshine and calm and warmth everywhere with her, his life would be flat.

* * *

_**May**** 2013**_

"What's your favorite memory and why?" Emma stretched out in the grass, resting her head on Steve's lap and looking up at him. He was leaning back on the heels of his hands, and his blue eyes—the same color as the sky was that bright day, interestingly enough, she noticed—were lazily scanning Central Park.

"Are we talking pre-ice or post-ice?" he questioned. They'd gotten into the habit of referring to the whole 70+ years of being frozen as such in order to make things less confusing. "Because if we're talking post-ice, my favorite memory most likely has to do with you."

"Ok, pre-ice then," she answered. Steve tilted his head back slightly into the sun, and his forehead wrinkled in thought. His favorite pre-ice memory…that was a hard one. Emma was always asking him questions about his time pre-ice. He didn't mind or anything, however; in fact, he loved that she wanted to know more about him. They'd been together for two years already, but he felt as though he could never know enough about her.

"Probably going to the fair with Bucky," he said finally, nodding once as he settled on his memory. "We were still kids—barely out of high school, and we went to the annual fair with some of the guys we were buddies with back then. Now, you have to remember that back in the 1930s, we didn't have as much to do then, so going to the fair was seen as cool, not lame."

"Going to the fair's still cool," Emma protested. "I mean, high school kids probably don't think it's fun, but I still think it's fun. I love getting funnel cakes and eating all that unhealthy food."

"See, back then we didn't worry about health so much, either. We just ate what we ate," Steve pointed out. "These days, all these crazy kids are trying to diet and count calories and—"

"You did _not _just say 'these crazy kids.'" Emma sat up and looked at him with an amused look on her face. He grinned at her and winked. The sun was shining off the top of his blond head, and Emma wasn't sure that she'd ever seen him look more beautiful. Though truth be told, give it a few hours, and she'd look at him in the dark glow of their apartment, and she'd think the same thing again.

"Maybe," he replied. "You're digressing. You're getting me off track."

"Oh, God, _excuse me_. Let it never be said that I threw Captain Steve Rogers off track." She turned and faced him, mirroring his position as she leaned back on the heels of her palms. "Please continue."

"That was about it," Steve said with a smirk. "That's probably my favorite memory. It's simple, but…I don't know."

He looked away almost as if he were embarrassed, though he didn't know why he was feeling this way. Though actually, he did know. He didn't talk about Bucky very much. Talking about his childhood best friend was far too painful for him. In his mind, Bucky's death only felt like it'd happened just a few years ago, not over half a century ago.

"But it made you happy," Emma pointed out. She carefully studied Steve's face as he looked off to the side, taking in the sights and sounds of Central Park on a clear, easy Sunday afternoon. She thought about confronting the issue of Bucky, of trying to get him to talk about it, but she thought better of it. Steve didn't talk about Bucky for obvious reasons, and she wouldn't get him to if he weren't ready for it.

"What about you?" Steve asked as he turned his head back to look at her. "Best memory and why?"

"Probably the M-Term semester I got to do in Ireland for three weeks," she answered almost immediately. "Since I was a nursing student, I wasn't allowed to study abroad during the year since the program was really involved, but I could do M-Term, and I did. Wound up spending three weeks studying Irish literature, and it was the best time of my life."

"Never been to Ireland," Steve remarked. "Was it nice?"

"Oh, it was gorgeous," Emma happily sighed. "They aren't lying when they say that green's everywhere. At least in the countryside. I've never seen anything more beautiful."

"Ten bucks says I have," Steve replied. Emma's gaze turned to him, and her lips turned up into a smile.

"Remember the last time you made a bet?" she asked. Steve grinned at her, knowing that she was referring to the bet he'd made with Fury about how the world couldn't possibly get any stranger.

"Ok, I learned my lesson," he said. "I know now that I should only bet on things I know 100% for a fact."

"That's a good lesson," Emma diplomatically answered with a solemn nod.

"I still bet ten bucks that I've seen something more beautiful than that Irish countryside," he replied, his voice growing soft. Emma leaned her head against her shoulder as she looked at him, and she drank in the sight of him.

"I think you're flirting with me," she said softly.

"I think you're right." Steve's face was serious, and she couldn't help grinning at him. He pushed himself off the heels of his palms, and he leaned forward towards her. "You're so smart, Miss Carroll."

"Hmmm. Maybe. Now, if _you _were smart, Captain Rogers, you would know that you should kiss me right here, right now," Emma challenged. Steve didn't hesitate in taking her up on it. He placed one hand on the back of her neck, and he gently pressed his lips to hers. As he kissed her, the thought crossed his head that he'd most definitely been right in thinking he'd seen something more beautiful than Ireland.

* * *

Steve couldn't think as he sat in the chair by Emma's bed. He didn't know how long he'd been there, but he'd been there for a while just holding her hand. As long as she stayed warm, that was a sign that she was still alive. Forget the machine breathing for her, forget the fluids dripping into her through tubes and needles. He needed to feel her warmth and her pulse beneath his fingers to know that she was still with him.

"I feel like I should say something," he said out loud. He sighed and ran his thumb over the back of her hand. "I feel like an idiot."

Emma didn't reply. She didn't wake up to tell him that he wasn't an idiot. She just kept lying there.

"Em…honey…you've got to wake up. The doctors think you might not wake up, but I know you will. I'd bet on it. You love a challenge." He looked down at her still hand. "You always love a challenge."

Silence.

"I'm going to fix this." His throat swelled, and he found that he couldn't look at her. He tilted his head down towards the floor, his blue eyes fixing on the white and grey tiles, and he squeezed his eyes shut. "I promise. I promise I'm going to fix this."

He stood up and gently tightened his grip on her hand. Nothing. Suddenly, a flash of emotion hit him, and he couldn't stay there anymore. He had to get out. He couldn't sit here and look at her while she didn't even know he was there, while she had medicines pumping through her veins to keep her asleep so that her brain could relax.

He needed to get out of this room. Carefully but quickly letting go of her hand, he abruptly turned and walked out of the hospital room and into the hall. He didn't notice Lacey cross to the door he'd left open and shut it behind him. Steve kept his head down, and he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes to ease the stinging. Breathing deeply, he slowed his heart rate and his mind. If he pressed hard enough on his closed eyes, he could see stars.

"Steve." Lacey's quiet voice distracted him, and he quickly turned towards her. She stood beside him, and she was holding something in her hands.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled quietly.

"Don't be. It's…it's overwhelming," Lacey said. Her voice shook as she spoke, but she placed her hand gently on his arm the same way she had earlier. Steve stared at her hand and remembered how his mother had touched his arm like that when he'd been sick in bed. Without any warning, he had flashbacks to being a kid and home sick all the time. All he'd wanted to do was go to school and learn like everyone else. The other kids got to do all the fun stuff while he was stuck in bed because he could barely even catch his breath.

"It is," he agreed. He turned towards her and swallowed hard. Stilling his pounding heart, he tried to muster up as much strength and determination as he could. "Have the police come back with anything else? What have they told you?"

Lacey helplessly shrugged and shook her head at the same time. "Not much. It was a strange accident. A hit-and-run. The car was still there, but there was no driver. No blood, no nothing."

Steve's jaw tensed. "No driver?"

Lacey paused, and her heart stopped. "Steve. You don't think there was something more to this, do you?"

His blue eyes bored into her grey-green eyes, and it nearly hurt him to hold her gaze for so long. "It doesn't make sense."

"You don't think…" Her voice trailed off, and she looked at him with a questioning, knowing expression on her face. Steve frowned the slightest bit, and he tilted his head to the side just a fraction. Lacey saw his confusion, and she ran her free hand through her hair, the other hand still holding the bag. "She told me about Tom and Leah, but surely this couldn't be connected."

"I don't know if it's connected, but…" Steve's face became distant. Grace would have an idea. She was so science-minded—hell, she was so _anything _minded. Literally, all she had to do was sit down with some information for an hour or two, and she'd be a genius on the subject no matter the topic—that she'd be able to study the forensics of the crash. "I think I know someone who might be able to figure this out."

"Steve, what's going on?" Lacey's voice was filled with concern, edging on frantic. Steve looked down at her and pressed his lips together.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

* * *

_**December 2013**_

Steve let out a loud groan. Emma burst out laughing, and she crossed towards him.

"Come on. What do you think? You like?" she asked.

"I can't believe you're wearing that."

"What? You don't like it? Because I love it, and I think you should love it, too."

"Are you going to wear that out?"

"Of course I am. And I'm going to wear it out with _you_."

"That's not inconspicuous at all."

"There's that sense of humor I love! How is my wearing this any different than your wearing a SHIELD t-shirt?"

"Because I'm supporting you when I wear it."

"And this isn't supporting you? Hon, it's a Captain America shirt. I don't know how much more supportive I can get." Emma put her hands on her hips and beamed brightly at the Super Soldier as he shook his head in disbelief. His eyes were wide with amusement and shock, and he couldn't stop shaking his head. "I lasted two and a half years without getting a Captain America shirt! I think that says something."

"You're nuts," Steve said, but his voice was loving, and his gaze was amused.

"Hey, you know what I'm thinking?" Emma slowly crossed towards the iHome. Steve's eyes grew wide as he watched her.

"You wouldn't dare," he said in a warning tone. Her smile spread wider and wider.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Emma Lane Carroll, don't even think about touching that iPod." He slowly rose to his feet, unable to hide his own smile as she got closer and closer to the plugged in iPod.

"Oo, you're using my whole name." She smirked at him. Without taking her eyes off of him, wound up muscles and everything, she slowly reached her hand out towards the iPod.

"You wouldn't," Steve said. She lifted her eyebrows wordlessly and glanced away from him for a quick second as she picked the song she wanted.

"Huh. I think I want to listen to this song."

"No. Emma—"

"Steve?"

"Emma, this is too much," Steve warned. She smirked at him.

"Too much what? Too much freedom?" As she said her last question, she hit Play. A brass intro filled the living room, and Steve lunged towards her right as she squealed and dodged him.

"Who's strong and brave here to save the American way?" she loudly sang, dodging him by darting behind the couch. There was no way he could get to her without either jumping over the couch or by playing cat-and-mouse with her until she got tired of it.

"You're going to pay for this!" Steve shouted over the music.

"Yeah?" she called back. "Who vows to fight for what's right, night and day?"

Steve moved like he was going to the right, and Emma ran to the left. Quickly switching his direction before she could switch her—thank God for having the Serum, he thought with an inward smirk—he ran to his left and grabbed her right as she realized that she'd run into her own trap. With ease, he lifted her up and over his shoulder fireman-style.

"This is you paying," he called up to her.

"Who will campaign door-to-door for America? Carry the flag shore to shore for America?" she sang, her voice growing louder. Laughing, Steve carried her to the couch and laid her down on it. She was laughing and singing and squirming all at the same time, trying to escape from him, even though she knew she was no match for him. "From Hoboken to Spokane! My star-spangled man with a plan!"

He paused at her change in words, and she stared up at him, her cheeks flushed and her chest rising and falling with each breath she inhaled and exhaled. "Why do you even have that on your iPod?"

"Because it's your song, and you get all riled up whenever I play it," she breathlessly replied. "And because you _are _my star-spangled man with a plan. Who ever would've thought I'd be in love with a man who looks so good in tights?"

"Oh, you're really going to pay for that," Steve said, moving over her and lowering his mouth to hers.

"Oh, I hope so."

* * *

Steve ended the call he'd just made to Grace, and he walked back into the lobby where the rest of Emma's family was waiting. Lacey was still holding the bag she'd had in her hands just moments before, and she looked up at him as he walked towards them. Quietly, he sat down in a chair across from her. Laura and Alex were just a seat over from him. Laura looked like she'd been crying, and Alex was quietly talking to her, his dark head bent close to hers.

"These are Em's things she had with her in the crash," Lacey said, and she held the bag out to him. "The police gave them back to us. I thought you'd want them back. They're more yours than ours."

Steve took the bag back from her, surprise coming over his face. The bag wasn't terribly large or heavy, but there was definitely something in there. He opened it and looked inside. All that was there was her cell phone and her wallet. Reaching in, he pulled the two objects out and examined them.

"She always has these on her," he said out loud, more to himself than to anyone else. He looked at the wallet and inwardly frowned, hoping that no one had taken any cards or money out. Unzipping it, he decided to check. He wasn't sure how much cash she carried on her on a daily basis, but he'd be able to tell if any cards were gone. He opened the wallet and carefully looked through it. Everything seemed to be in place as far as he could tell, thankfully.

He was about to close it when something caught his eye. A picture printed out on computer paper was tucked into one of the pockets, and if he weren't mistaken, he most definitely recognized the picture. Opening the wallet even wider, he tilted his head to get a good look at it and stilled as he saw that he did, indeed, know the picture.

The picture was of him. It was a black-and-white picture of pre-ice, pre-Serum Steve at basic training. For the billionth time, Steve felt his throat began to swell, and he gritted his teeth together to keep himself composed. Out of all the pictures that Emma could have put in her wallet, and she'd chosen this one. He hadn't even known that she kept a picture of him on her. And it was a picture of how he'd been before the Serum.

Carefully replacing the picture, he closed the wallet and zipped it back up before putting it and the cell phone back in the bag. Emma could've chosen any picture in the world, and yet she'd chosen that picture, a picture of him before she'd really known him. She had chosen the one that was him—_really_ him. Pre-Serum him. All this time he'd thought he'd known her so well, and yet she continued to surprise him.

_Come on, Emma_, he thought silently as he closed his eyes. _Come back to me_.


	12. Progression

**Shoutouts to KD Skywalker, Lilybear3121, laurenbear88, Dreampool, MsRose91, LilyHiddleston96, stuffoflegends, and thecruelworldwelivein for reviewing!**

**Again, this chapter is jam-packed with new developments and Emma's memories. There's a lot on the plate ahead of us, so buckle up, ladies and gentlemen!**

**Also, I just realized that canonically, Steve gets called into the Avengers Initiative a week after he wakes up, but in my stories, I made it a year apart because I was going off the movies' release dates. So now that there's that going on, I'm going to change it so that a year didn't pass in between Steve thawing out and the Avengers but rather a few months because a week just doesn't work with the universe of my stories. I think that the Battle of New York taking place about three months after Steve and Emma meet still fits with everything that happens. So I'll be going back and changing these inconsistencies. In this chapter, I didn't take into consideration the time gap change, so this is written as if the Battle of New York and the Great Thawing were a year apart because it'll take me a while to get everything chronological.  
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**Thirdly, I have completely finished rewriting _Healing Touch! _Chapters 14 and 15 were reposted this past weekend, so if you want, feel free to go check them out. The sex scene is a lot longer and more detailed in my rewrite, so for all of y'all who like the smutty scenes (and who doesn't heh heh) you'll probably be interested in going back and reading it.  
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**As always, please continue leaving your thoughts. Your support is amazing, and I love reading what you guys are liking and what you're not liking because it helps me improve my writing!**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 12

After Steve went downstairs and talked to Dave Gallagher, he realized that he didn't have many more answers than he'd had before talking to the only other person who had seen what had happened. Dave had been doped up on pain medication and, as a result, not very responsive.

And so since he was without answers, he was very relieved when Grace called that night around midnight.

"Just from taking a preliminary look at the reports, Tony and I both agree that there's no way it was an accident," Grace announced into the phone. Steve wasn't sure whether or not he felt happy or relieved to have some kind of confirmation.

"I thought not," he agreed. "You had Tony take a look at it?"

"Yeah, I did. Two genius brains working together are better than one. After looking at what little information there is so far, there's just no fucking way it was an accident. I mean, the fact alone that the driver wasn't there, and there was no sign of blood should send up all kinds of red flags," she said. "But that's emotion-based instinct, not science-based fact."

"When will more information be uploaded into the police department's system?" Steve asked.

"Sometime over the course of the next week. I'll have to get back to you on it." Grace paused. "How is she? Any changes?"

"No." Steve's voice was quiet. For a few seconds, Grace didn't respond, but her silence was the best support that he could've asked for at the moment. She wasn't a touchy-feely person who liked hugs and playful little touches, and she wasn't even that sappy when it came to expressing how she felt about people, so Steve knew that it was her silences that meant the most.

"Do you need anything? Tony and I can be there in a heartbeat," she said. Despite the pain weighing down on him, Steve smiled against the screen of his cell phone. Grace's silences conveyed the most support, but whenever she said something that normal people would say to show that they were there for you also meant the world to him.

"No," he said. "Thank you, though. Em's aunt offered to let me stay at her house while…all of this is going on."

He couldn't bring himself to verbalize the situation at hand. He just couldn't.

"Ok. Let me know if you need us there because we'll be there. Ok?"

"Ok."

"And keep me updated on everything that goes on with her. I want daily updates, whether they're by phone, text, email…anything. I'll call you whenever the rest of the crash report is finished to let you know what Tony and I conclude."

"Alright."

"Bye, Steve. You'll be ok."

_But will Emma_? That was the question that ran through his mind, the question that neither he nor anyone else could answer for the time being. And truthfully, that was probably what was the most difficult thing of all for Steve; Emma was the one with all the answers. She had always been there right beside him to answer his questions, his concerns, his fears. But this time he had a question, and he needed the answer more than he'd ever needed an answer in the past, and Emma wasn't there to give it to him.

* * *

_**June 2011**_

Emma's stomach fluttered as she lifted her eyes from the menu in front of her and took in the sight of the blond man sitting across from her. He looked amazing in his button down and tie. Since Steve tended to dress nicely every day of his life, he'd spruced up for the occasion by whipping out a tie, and damn, was that a hell of a good decision, she thought to herself with an appreciative smile.

"I feel like I know more about you than I should, considering that this is a first date," she remarked with a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. Steve smiled back at her, his blue eyes light and clear. One thing Emma noticed about Steve was that he seemed to smile bigger and brighter each time he allowed the movement collaboration of muscles to naturally occur.

"I don't have much to go off of in terms of first dates, so I'll take your word," he replied. Emma tilted her head, and she looked at him curiously. Noticing her confused expression, his smile widened. "Technically speaking, this is my first date. Ever."

"Really?" Emma asked in surprise. He nodded once.

"Really. No fooling," he replied. "Women haven't exactly crawled all over me my entire life."

"I can't imagine why," she responded with a blink. Steve paused as he studied her face for any signs of joking, but he couldn't find any. Unsure of how to respond, he frowned slightly at her, mirroring her confused face.

"I used to be the size of a toothpick, and I could barely walk quicker than a stroll without getting an asthma attack," he said by way of explanation. Emma made a dismissive shrug and a half-eye roll as if to show that those few details he'd mentioned were simply that: details.

"So? That's just physicality," she said. "I haven't known you for very long, Captain Rogers, but you've got a hell of a personality."

"I've never heard a dame say that about me before." Steve's eyes filled with amusement before a look of wide-eyed shock and self-irritation flashed over them. "_Woman_. Woman. Dame is no longer the accepted term."

"I think it's nice," Emma said, happily smiling at him. "I don't mind it."

"Women back in 1945 weren't too thrilled to hear themselves referred to that way." Steve said. "They were—you were supposed to refer to them as ladies. Or women. Not broads or dames."

"Hmm, yeah, I can live without being called a broad, but I like dame," Emma diplomatically answered. "See, look at this. I'm giving you technology lessons, and you're giving me language lessons."

"I need language lessons of my own," Steve protested. "I don't understand half these terms everyone uses now."

"Like what?" Emma asked. "Lay it on me. I'll teach you the slang of my time if you teach me the slang of yours."

"Deal?" Steve held his hand out and stretched it across the table. Emma beamed brightly back at him and put her small hand in his.

"Deal," she said and firmly shook his hand, admiring how strong and large it was, how his hand seemed to wrap almost completely around hers. He was always so strong but gentle—particularly the latter when it came to her. "So what's some slang you don't understand now?"

"Dude," Steve answered without hesitating. "What does that mean?"

"It's a person. It started out meaning 'man,' but now you can call women 'dudes,' even though some get all uppity and insist on being called 'dudettes' or some bullshit." She froze as she realized that she'd sworn, and she tentatively looked up at him, her sea-colored eyes huge. "Oh, my God. I didn't mean to swear. Sometimes it just comes out. Did people used to swear a lot in the '40s? Do you think I'm crude for swearing?"

"Emma, I was in the Army," Steve replied with a soft chuckled. "I've heard my fair share of swear words from men _and_ women. And you're the farthest thing from crude, if that makes you feel any better."

A look of relief passed over Emma's face, and her lips slowly spread into one of her beautiful, illuminating smiles. "Ok. I'm sorry. I just wanted to check. You're—you're just so _good _that I didn't want you thinking…I didn't…I don't know. I don't know what I'm saying."

Steve frowned, suddenly putting together what she was saying. "You didn't want me thinking what?"

She sighed and glanced down at the menu. She wished that she could go back and take the last 30 seconds back because the conversation had taken a bit of an awkward turn that she hadn't wanted it to make. "I don't know. I mean…you're Captain America. People literally looked at you and found hope—people _still _do. Everything I've ever read or watched about you talks about how righteous and just…how _good _you are."

"And?" Steve prompted. She sighed again and looked up at him.

"And you _are _good. And I didn't want you thinking that I'm not good because I can sometimes have the mouth of a sailor," she replied. Steve stared at her in silence for a few seconds, and in those seconds that felt like an eternity, Emma wished that the floor would open up and just swallow her already. She'd bared her soul to him enough times in the past few weeks she'd known him, but it never seemed to get any easier.

"There's a reason that that expression exists. Sailors do use swear words pretty regularly," Steve said seriously. Emma blinked, unsure of whether or not to laugh. Then Steve grinned at her, and she shook her head as she softly chuckled. Seeing her relax a little, he leaned forward the slightest bit towards her. "If you ever think you're not good enough for me, you have it completely backwards."

Emma stared at him with speechless eyes, and then she shook her head in confusion, as if she were afraid she'd heard him wrong. "What?"

"There's a reason I'm falling in love with you," he said simply, the tone of his voice just as plain and matter of fact as if he'd been telling her what he'd decided on to eat. And that was another thing that Emma loved about Steve Rogers. She'd dated her share of men in the past, but those men never been all that comfortable about opening up to her about how they felt the way Steve did.

"You always seem to leave me speechless," she said finally, feeling somewhat flustered. Steve smiled at her.

"What's your middle name?" he asked suddenly.

"Lane," Emma answered, the tone of her voice covered with surprise. "Why?"

"I just wanted to know," he answered.

"You're a curious dude, Steven Grant Rogers." She laughed at his own surprised expression. "Yeah, I bet you forget that the entire world knows more about you than you'd like them to."

"I admit that it's…strange," Steve answered in a diplomatic tone.

"But me, on the other hand, I can't know enough," she said softly, her smile as soft as her voice.

Steve couldn't help but allow his face to melt into a quiet smile. "Me neither."

* * *

In the week that followed, Steve found himself in an unfortunately familiar routine. He went to the hospital and stayed there with Emma as long as he could. He rarely ever left, but when he did, it was to call Grace and see if there were any developments—none—or to give her the updates on Emma—again, none—whenever he could.

The entire Carroll-Gallagher family was warm and welcoming to Steve in such a way that reminded him instantly of Emma and how warm she'd been with him, even back when he'd been virtually a stranger to her. The mood in the Carroll-Gallagher household was grim, but there was still occasion for laughter, though it might not have been a lot of laughter compared to what had existed there before.

Steve could feel his anxieties creeping in on him and swallowing him more and more with each day that passed. The only really big development that had happened with Emma had been the removal of her ventilator. She was able to breathe on her, and really, Steve was grateful for the sign of improvement because at least it was some kind of sign. However, he was impatient for more. He was impatient for her to wake up and to be ok again. He only wanted her to be ok.

The Wednesday night nine days after the accident had taken place, a knock on the door startled Steve from his quiet research on his laptop. He looked up as Lacey Carroll stood in the doorway, patiently waiting for an ok from him to come in. They'd since passed the awkward stages of his staying in their house; no one had seemed to know what to do with him at first. Technically, Steve was a celebrity—Steve was a _hero_, and he was staying in the Carroll-Gallagher family home. There'd been some uncomfortable moments for a few days as Steve had adjusted to staying in a house that belonged to, virtually, strangers.

"Yes, ma'am?" he asked as he turned away from the laptop on the desk to give Lacey his full attention. She crossed into the room and held a medium-sized piece of poster board out to him, a soft smile on her face.

"I remembered a certain project Em did back when she was in eighth grade, so I went downstairs and dug around for a while looking for it," she said. Curious, Steve took the board from her, and he looked at it. Instantly, a black and white photo of his face looked back at him. At the top of the board read the words: Five Ways Captain America Changed World War II in Europe.

"She didn't," he mumbled under his breath, though he couldn't stop the small smile that appeared on his face.

"Oh, yes, she did," Lacey confirmed. "If I remember correctly, this was for her History class. They were doing the World War II unit, and Em chose this as her topic." She laughed at the look on his face as he continued to examine it. "Trust me, the irony doesn't escape me, either."

"I can't believe it." He shook his head in disbelief.

"It's funny, if nothing else." Lacey paused, and she cleared her throat. "Steve, did Em tell you about what she found?"

"What she found?" Steve repeated in a confused voice. Understanding passed over Lacey's face, and she took a piece of paper out of her pocket. She held it out to Steve, and he took it from her. These days, it seemed to be that was constantly giving him things, and he had nothing left to give her in return. His eyes scanned over the note about Spain that Emma had found with the SHIELD emblem at the top. "What is this?"

"I don't know," Lacey honestly answered. "Emma found it when she was going through her parents' things. So far, it's the only thing SHIELD-related either of us has been able to find."

Steve frowned deeply as he read over it again. "This doesn't make sense."

"It doesn't," Lacey agreed with a sigh. "She Googled Pierce and SHIELD to see if something would come up. All she found was Alexander Pierce, but she didn't seem to think there was much of a connection there."

"Alexander Pierce?" Steve asked, feeling like a goddamn parrot with how much he was repeating the dark-haired woman. "He's head of the World Security Council."

"That's what Emma said, and that was why she didn't think there was much of a connection between him and the note. Anyway, I thought you'd want to see it. It probably doesn't have anything to do with much of anything, really, but I know you're the one who discovered the truth about what happened to Tom and Leah," Lacey said quietly. Steve looked up at her, his frown deepening.

"Ma'am, I don't even know the truth," he protested. "All I know is what Agent Marks gave me in that file. We've both been searching for answers, and we can't seem to find any. SHIELD is…secretive, to say the least."

"If anyone can find out the truth, it's you." Lacey's gaze was calm and so full of trust that it nearly unnerved Steve to see it there on her face. He was basically a stranger to Lacey Carroll, and yet he could see in her eyes that she already trusted him.

"I'll do my best," he answered sincerely. "I'm determined to figure out what happened."

"So is Emma," Lacey gently replied. "I'm about to head in for the night, but I just thought I'd share these things with you."

"Thank you. It means a lot to me," Steve answered. Lacey smiled, her head tilted to the side just slightly that again, reminded him of Emma, and she turned to the door, pausing as she reached the doorway.

"Good night, Steve."

"Good night, ma'am."

Lacey walked out of the guest room he'd silently accepted as his, and he was alone again. Over the past few weeks, he'd been more alone than he'd ever been in his life, and he had to conclude that he didn't like the feeling very much at all. Even when he'd been skinny and sickly, he'd had Bucky. Bucky had always been there for him. And when Steve had woken up to find that everyone and everything he'd known was no longer existent or the same, he'd had Emma. Ever since then, he'd always had Emma.

So loneliness was a brand new feeling for Steve that he hadn't experienced in a very long time. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the room around him. He was so used to hearing Emma's soft breathing or her tosses and turns while she slept or even the quiet humming that she made whenever she was thinking or busy doing something that all of this sudden silence seemed foreign to him now.

Everything had happened so suddenly. First it'd been the mission, then it'd been Peggy, and now it was this. Everything had just come out of the blue so suddenly that he hadn't really noticed the silence until just the other night when he'd lain in a bed that was unfamiliar to him, and he'd acknowledged for the hundredth time how much he missed Emma lying beside him.

If he kept his eyes closed long enough, he could almost imagine her in the room with him, her smile lighting up her face and her eyes, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder, her laughter filling up the room. Almost.

* * *

_**January 2013**_

Emma crouched down in front of the DVD player and pushed the disc-holder shut. Lifting the plastic DVD case from the floor, she glanced over her shoulder towards Steve.

"Do you want to read the description on the back?" she asked.

"Sure." Steve held his hands out, and she carefully tossed the case to him, though she didn't know why she did it carefully. In all reality, she could chuck the plastic object at him with all her might and still not be able to hurt him. He caught the DVD case with ease and leaned back into the couch as he started skimming over it.

"_Shutter Island_," he read out loud. "You said this was a good book?"

"It's a great book," Emma confirmed, lifting herself off the floor as she picked the remote up off the ground beside her and crossed back towards him. He glanced up at her as she came back to him. She had her hair in a messy bun, and she was wearing just a t-shirt and sweatpants, but he was convinced that he'd never seen her look more beautiful. He always loved her whenever she was dressed down like this because she looked so much more relaxed and natural, and that was how he loved to see her the most.

"Dennis Lehane is a fantastic storyteller," she added. Steve readjusted himself as she fell back into the couch so that she could swing her legs up onto his lap. He read the description on the back and nodded in approval.

"It sounds good," he said. "Isn't this guy the same guy who was in _Titanic _and _Inception_?"

"Look at you with your pop culture references," Emma teased with a happy sigh. "Yes, you're right. Leonardo DiCaprio. One of the greatest actors of our generation. Wait. My generation. Or is this your generation, too? I don't know."

"Neither do I." Steve set the DVD case down on the table beside the couch and waited patiently as she pressed the right button the remote that would skip right past all the previews and go straight to the Main Menu. "I guess I'm part of your generation."

"Probably not. I think you're considered my grandparents' generation," Emma answered. Steve visibly winced, and she snickered. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. But if you think about it, you're probably more their generation than mine."

"Hey, I'm all caught up on modern slang," Steve playfully protested, and he lightly nudged her calf with his hand. Emma looked away from the TV screen and towards him with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah, I have to admit that you've done pretty well with that," she said. "Good job, Captain."

She went to press the Play button when Steve suddenly reached out and placed his hand on her wrist, effectively distracting her from the screen.

"Hey, before we get started…" His voice trailed off. Emma waited for him to continue, but he seemed to be unable to find the right words to proceed.

"Yes?" she calmly asked.

"I was thinking…we spend a lot of time together," he said slowly. Before she could react, he held both of his hands up. "I'm not saying that's a bad thing. I'm only saying that we spend a lot of time together, and we're at each other's apartments most of the time."

"Yeah?" she prompted. Deep down, she felt something akin to panic and dread start to rise up. This didn't sound as though it were the beginning of a good conversation; if anything, it sounded like a "We need a break" talk. Quickly, she went back through her memories of the past week and tried to think of anything she'd done that could be construed as clingy or too much in general.

"Honey, I'm not saying anything bad," Steve said gently. His voice was reassuring, but Emma couldn't help being nervous.

"Steve, this just isn't the start of a positive-sounding conversation," she cautiously replied. Steve got an odd look over his face, one that looked as though it were a mixture of self-annoyance and possibly shyness. "That's the exact way I'd start out a 'We need to slow things down' discussion."

"No. No, no, no," Steve quickly said with wide eyes and a fast shake of his head. "That's not what I'm trying to say it all. I'm trying…" He sighed and absentmindedly rubbed the top of her shin as he tried to gather his thoughts. "I'm not…Em…I'm—I'm trying to ask you if you want to move in together."

Emma stared at him, her mouth slightly open. "Seriously?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm serious," Steve confirmed with a solid nod. "That's what—what I meant about us spending a lot of time together. I didn't mean it in a bad way. It's just that I'm always at your apartment, or you're always here, and it—I don't know. It just makes sense." He paused before quickly adding, "If you think so, too."

Slowly, a smile melted over Emma's face, and she nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I do think so."

"So you think it's a good idea," Steve said, just to receive a confirmation. Emma nodded again.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do think it's a good idea," she said. "Are you sure? Have you really thought about it? Because I mean, as soon as we're living together, that means like, we share a space together."

"I know what living together means. I'm 93, not stupid," he answered with a cheeky smirk that made Emma's heart melt.

"Oh, stop," she said, softly laughing. "I'm just asking. But…yeah. Yeah, I think that's a great idea."

"I don't have a problem with moving into your place, if you'd prefer that," Steve offered. Giving him a wide-eyed look, Emma quickly shook her head.

"Hell no. Your place is bigger. If you're ok with it, I'm more than happy to move in here," she said. "But only if you do the heavy lifting."

"I think I can manage that," Steve seriously replied, trying to still the corners of his lips as they started to tilt upwards into a smile.

"Then you're on, Captain. You've got yourself a brand new roommate." Emma leaned forward and tilted her head upwards. Steve took her up on her initiative, and he placed one hand on the back of her neck to bring her closer to him. She kissed him and was again reminded of how right this felt, how right _he _felt.

"World's most beautiful roommate," Steve said, breaking away to quickly murmur the words against her mouth. Her heart fluttered, and she pulled him back into another kiss. The movie could wait a little while longer.

* * *

Even though Emma could now breathe on her own, it didn't mean that she was all that much more improved. Bruises always looked worse after a good week of having them, so on Day 10, Emma's bruises were looking pretty rough. Steve sat at her bedside, not bothering to hide the pained look on his face as his eyes took in the sight of a still battered and broken Emma Carroll.

"Hi, honey," he said softly. Over the past week, he'd gotten used to talking to her unconscious form, even though he still felt a little bit weird doing it. "Your aunt showed me your eighth grade project last night that you did on me. You never told me you'd made that."

He leaned forward in his chair, his fingers curling gently around hers, and he was again reassured by the warmth of her hand that she really was still there with him. Also over the past week, he'd developed an irrational fear that she would be dead at any given second, and he had to do whatever he could to keep her alive.

"Your family's been great to me, Em. They're good people, just like you said. They sure do love you a lot, though that's not hard to understand why." His eyes scanned over her again. Underneath the purpling bruises, he could barely see the family resemblance. "You know, last night I was realizing that this is the first time that I've really been on my own without you. Didn't know how much I relied on you to always be there until now."

Silence. He didn't know why he still expected a response from her.

"I need you here with me, sweetheart. There's still a lot I don't know yet, and no one will be able to explain it the way you can. No one else will have the kind of patience you do."

He smiled, even in the silence of the absence of her responses.

"The only other person I knew who had that kind of patience with me was Bucky. He never got fed up with me because I couldn't do all the things he could. Just like you. You would've liked him. Everyone liked Bucky."

He softly laughed to himself and shook his head.

"And he would've _loved _you. Probably would've tried to steal you right away from me. I can…I can hear him saying, 'Listen up, you punk, that's a real lady you got right there, and you gotta treat her with class.'"

Steve found his smile slowly fading as he remembered that Bucky was dead. He never really forgot that seemingly simple fact; it was always in the back of his mind. Out of habit, he'd see something and immediately connect it with some memory he had that involved Bucky, and for a quick second, it was almost as if Bucky were still alive. But then the gravity of reality would set in, and he would remember that Bucky weren't there. He never forgot that Bucky was dead, and the pain had become easier to deal with over the years, but that never made the disappointment and the loss any less real.

"Em, honey, Buck was the only person who was there for me back in my time. And you're the only person who's here for me now. I don't have Buck, and I can't lose you, too. I can't lose you both. I've learned to live without Bucky, but I don't think I can take having to learn to live without you, too." Steve was surprised to feel the backs of his eyelids sting. With his free hand, he lifted it to his face and gently pressed on his closed eyes with his forefinger and his thumb.

Telling an unconscious, nearly lifeless Emma about Bucky had brought back the pain of losing Bucky as the pain of possibly losing Emma was so present and ominous. Everything he'd been holding back for the past few weeks—particularly this last one—began to collapse, and he found himself clinging onto Emma, emotionally, mentally, and even physically, so as not to drown in the feelings that were now rising to the surface.

Steve wasn't the type of man to go to great lengths to conceal his feelings from those he loved. However, Steve was a master at holding himself together for the sake of the people who looked to him. When he'd been the leader of the Howling Commandos, he'd made sure that his emotions were subdued. Those men had looked to him as a leader, and if he'd shown them fear, then they would've been afraid, too. And now when the Carroll-Gallagher family needed someone to lead them during this strange, tumultuous time, Steve had naturally and quietly stepped into that leadership spot, meaning that he had to tuck the strength of his feelings aside in order to help them be strong.

But now he couldn't. Finally, he allowed himself to break. Tears filled his eyes, and he pressed his lips tightly together to keep his emotions quiet. The stinging behind his eyelids increased, and before he knew it, the tears began to fall freely down his face, leaving searing, salty trails behind. He wasn't loud, nor was he particularly dramatic or showy about his tears; his release of pain was as stoic and silent as was the way he bore it.

Steve allowed himself to cry in a way that he hadn't allowed himself to for years. His shoulders silently shook, and he let go.

Suddenly, his phone began to vibrate, and he jolted slightly at the distracting sensation. He considered not answering it, but when he looked down at it and saw that it was Grace calling, he couldn't ignore the call. Keeping one hand wrapped around Emma's, he picked up his phone and slid his thumb across the screen to answer it.

"Hello?" His voice was a few pitches lower than it usually was, and there was a hint of scratchiness to it that let the cat out of the bag that he'd been crying.

"Steve?" Grace's tone was concerned. The Super Soldier inwardly sighed as Grace's careful analysis _would _pick that up.

"I'm here," he said without even bothering to clear his throat. Grace paused, and he knew that she was wondering whether or not to bring up the fact that she knew that he was upset, but she took the smart route, and she didn't say anything about it.

"The rest of the accident report was uploaded, and Jarvis was able to hack it and give Tony and me the info we needed," she said, her voice slightly softer than it usually was. Steve silently thanked Grace for not beating around the bush, and he leaned forward in his seat.

"What did you find?" he asked.

Grace sighed. "It wasn't an accident. There's no way it could've been an accident."

"Why do you say that?" Steve questioned.

"There was no one in the driver's seat."

Silence passed over the phone as Steve sat in shock. He frowned, blinking his now scratchy eyes, and he glanced up at Emma's bruised face.

"What?" he asked.

"You heard me. Surveillance cameras on that strip of road give a nice view into the driver's seat, and no one was driving the car. At least manually." Grace rustled some papers in the background. "There's an analysis of the skid marks the tires made, and there are no signs of any attempts to swerve, stop, or anything like that. In fact, it accelerated as it approached the car. This SUV literally fucking plowed into her."

"This doesn't make sense," Steve said in disbelief.

"Steve, you're fucking telling me. None of this makes sense. First, you've got the shit with Emma's parents that SHIELD is very much trying to keep a secret, and then you've got that note you told me about earlier, and then you've got the accident. Steve, this accident was arranged. There's nothing accidental about it." Grace's voice was firm and worried, and the fact that she was allowing Steve to hear how worried she was only made him feel even more worried. Grace always covered her emotions, but this time she wasn't.

"Do you think it's all related?" he asked.

"It sure as fishy as hell to me," Grace replied. "You and Emma have been together for x number of years, and no one has _ever _tried to harm her. Now you find out about her parents, and she starts digging around, and suddenly, she's blindsided by some car without a driver. I've currently got Jarvis doing searches on the SUV's tags and registration and all that handy dandy shit."

"Thanks," Steve said quietly, still in shock.

"How is she?" Grace's voice became quieter.

"The same." Steve cleared his throat.

"It's been five hours since they took her off the medication to keep her in a coma, right?" Grace asked. Steve swallowed tightly.

"Yes," he said quietly, and then he cleared his throat. "Thank you for calling me."

"No problem. I'll call you as soon as I find anything else out."

"Ok. Thank you again."

"Steve."

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

* * *

_**August 2012**_

Emma had dreams about the Chitauri. She dreamed that they kidnapped her and hypnotized her. She dreamed that they destroyed the entire world while she could only sit back and watch. Worst of all, she dreamed that they killed Steve over and over again in front of her as she stood helpless, completely unable to do anything but watch the aliens kill him in new, creative ways.

She felt a hand close over her shoulder, and she gasped, her entire body jerking awake. Her eyes snapped open, and it was then that she saw she wasn't surrounded by the Chitauri; she was surrounded by darkness and blankets and warmth.

"Emma. Are you awake?" Steve's concerned but sleepy voice brought her fully back to consciousness, and she found that she was, indeed, in her bed, and Steve had one hand on her shoulder.

"Yes. Yeah, I'm—I'm awake," she gasped out. "I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

"You were thrashing," Steve said by way of an explanation. Swallowing, Emma nodded, and she shakily laughed.

"I'm sorry. I was having a bad dream," she said. She couldn't quite see Steve's eyes in the dark of their room, but she could just picture how he was looking at her right then and there.

"The Chitauri again?" he asked softly. She thought about denying it and telling him no, but she didn't want to pretend that everything was 100% ok when it wasn't. She had nightmares about these things she'd seen from afar, and she couldn't help but feel guilty because Steve had had to physically fight them—these goddamn aliens had actually inflicted physical pain upon him, and he was handling the attack better than she was.

"Yes," she quietly said. She waited for Steve to give her one of his meaningful, heartfelt talks about how she was safe the way he usually did, but he didn't. Instead, he lay back down and scooped her against him, her back pressed against his chest and his mouth against that spot on her back in between her shoulder and her neck.

"I've got you," he gently said. She closed her eyes and put her hand over his, pulling it in front of her.

"I've got you, too."

* * *

Steve sat patiently out in the lobby. He'd spent enough time in the room with Emma, and now Lacey was having her turn talking to her niece. Lacey seemed to have no problem with talking out loud to someone who couldn't respond. He marveled how the woman was able to do it; she could literally sit there for two hours and talk the entire time about anything and everything. Steve figured that it was most definitely a gift.

For the past half hour, he had been reading _Catch-22_, a novel that Grace had recommended to him about two months ago. She'd said that he would be able to relate to it because he had the actual World War II experience to bring to the novel while also looking at it from a contemporary point of view.

He looked up from the book to take a few seconds' breather. Despite some historical inaccuracies, he was really enjoying the novel, but he was having some trouble concentrating when all he could think about was how Emma had been purposefully targeted by someone he couldn't identify. He was lost in his thoughts of the book and the situation at hand in real life when he noticed nurses and doctors running down the hall. Frowning, he closed his book and stood up. Something wasn't right. They were all running in the direction of Emma's room, and he recognized Emma's main doctor in between them.

His heart rose up into his throat again, and he began to move.

_No_, his mind screamed. _Don't do this to me, Em._

When he rounded the corner, he saw Lacey being ushered out of Emma's room as the doctors and nurses rushed in. One of the nurses pointed to Steve and whispered something in the woman's ear. Lacey immediately turned to look at Steve, and she hurried towards him.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked, his heart pounding so loud in his ears that it was almost deafening.

"Emma," Lacey said quickly. "It's—it's Emma."

Steve's blue eyes searched Lacey's face, but he couldn't identify the expression she was wearing. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"She's waking up."


	13. Future

**Shoutouts to MsRose91, Lilybear3121, LilyHiddleston96, Jo, ninjaonfire, thecruelworldwelivein, Dreampool, NikNak, stuffoflegends, and RedRoses5 for reviewing! Wow, you guys, this was such an amazing amount of feedback. Y'all making me all emotional!**

**Ok, so this is the chapter we've all been waiting for, I think. I won't preface what you're in for because I don't want to give too much of the chapter away. Not that there are any spoilers per se, but still =) If you want extra emotions while you read, listen to "Falling Slowly" by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova!**

**I've started mapping out the version of _Captain America: The Winter Soldier _that includes Emma! I'll give y'all a little preview at the end of this chapter. Just a little teaser =)**

**As always, let me know what you think. You guys are so great about giving me feedback. Feel free to either leave it in a review or to PM me. I always answer my PMs, though sometimes I won't get back to in 24 hours. But I promise I do answer!**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 13

_Only shooting stars break the mold_.

Emma's entire body felt heavy. She wasn't sure what she was lying on, but she felt as though she were sinking right into it. Her head was fuzzy, and there were so many bright lights around her. Briefly, she thought that she'd gone back in time and was standing on stage in her fifth grade play. What play was it again? She couldn't remember, but she remembered that she'd played someone with magical powers. Her parents had been in town for it, and they'd come. Even Aunt Lacey, Uncle Mason, Alex, Dave, and Evan had come.

Her eyes felt swollen, but she forced them to open against the confusion that began settling over her. Right away, she could tell that she was in the hospital. She caught glimpses of scrubs, white coats, and busy hands. People were talking, and at first, she couldn't make out what they were saying, but finally, she could hear them saying her name.

"Emma, my name is Shannon, and I'm your nurse. I have a few questions for you. Do you know where you are?" a nurse asked her. Emma looked at the nurse—that should be her. She should be out of bed. What the hell was going on? She tried to get her tongue to work, but it felt so thick and dry in her mouth that it didn't want to move. As the consciousness began to sink into her, she felt the dull sensation of medicated pain over her whole body.

"Hospital," she finally forced out.

"Good. Do you know why you're here?" the nurse asked again.

"No," Emma said. It was easier to try to speak than to get her body to move, she'd realized. For a few seconds, she panicked that she was paralyzed, but she could feel her body, even if it was beneath that muted veil of medication. But at least she could feel it, she rationalized to herself. She must be pretty fucked up if they'd give her the good stuff, she thought.

"You were in a car accident, and you were hit pretty badly. Do you remember that at all?" the nurse asked. Car accident. Emma could vaguely remember something about it, but all she could really remember was Smash Mouth on the radio. If she thought hard enough, she could picture bright, white lights, much like the lights that were above her, even though the lights from the accident had been even brighter.

"Lights," she said.

"Excellent. I'm Dr. Carmichael, Emma. Can you follow this light with your eyes?" A woman in a white coat and a stethoscope around her neck shined a flashlight into Emma's eyes, and even though the sensation was unpleasant, she winced and followed it back and forth. She watched the medical team move around her, taking her vitals and checking her charts, and all she could think was that she should be doing this instead of them.

"What year is it?" Shannon asked.

"2014," Emma answered.

"Who's the president?"

"Obama."

"Wow, good job, Emma. You're already showing signs of great improvement. You have a lot of people here who've been waiting for you to get better," Dr. Carmichael said. "You're quite the celebrity around here. You draw enough attention as it is, but your man has certainly got the media camped out front these days."

Emma paused. Her man. Her man? She was a celebrity? What was Dr. Carmichael talking about? If it weren't painful to frown, she would've frowned to show that she didn't know what the hell Dr. Carmichael was referring to until it hit her.

Steve.

"Steve," she said out loud. "Steve."

"That's right. He's outside right now with your aunt. They've been worried sick about you," Dr. Carmichael said. "Would you like to see them?"

"Yes," Emma answered without hesitation. If she could have leapt out of that bed, she would have. She could feel her heart thumping inside her chest. Steve. How the hell had she forgotten about Steve? She waited as Dr. Carmichael left her alone with the nurse, but she wasn't really paying much attention to the nurse at all. Her family was there, and that included Steve.

It seemed like an eternity went by, but sure enough, Lacey's dark hair came bobbing into the room, and she rushed towards Emma.

"My God. Oh, sweetheart," she said tearfully. She carefully lifted a hand to smooth over Emma's hair. "Oh, Emmy, you scared the shit out of us."

"I'm ok," Emma thickly replied, trying to smile up at her aunt as she readjusted to having a voice again. "I'm ok."

"You will be," Lacey said. "At least you're awake now."

Quiet footsteps came through the door, and there was Steve. He was dressed in khakis and a button down with the sleeves rolled up. As she saw him, she remembered how she'd told him that that was the look these days, and ever since then, he'd always rolled the sleeves of his button downs up. He didn't wear them as much any more, instead opting to wear t-shirts and khakis or jeans, but he always looked most comfortable whenever he wore his signature button downs. His blue eyes locked onto hers, and he swiftly crossed towards her. Lacey quietly stepped back as he effortlessly slipped his hand into Emma's and carefully kissed the top of her forehead, making sure to avoid the remaining stitches.

"Emma," he sighed, his voice laced with obvious relief. "I'm so sorry. Emma, I'm so sorry. I love you, honey. I love you so much."

"I love you," she said back, tightening her grip on his hand as much as she could. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, no. Don't be sorry. Don't be sorry, Em. It's me. _I'm _sorry." His blue eyes frantically searched over her face, and he kissed her hand, pressing the back of her knuckles to his lips. "I'm so, so sorry, honey."

She closed her eyes and relished in the feeling of holding his hand, feeling his skin against hers. She couldn't believe that he was actually there. She opened her eyes again just to look at him again, and she smiled as much as she could through the pain. Behind him, she saw Lacey clasping her hands together as she watched the two of them.

"What do you think, Aunt Lacey?" she asked. "He pass family inspection?"

"He did the second we met," Lacey said with a tearful laugh, and she took a few steps closer to Emma's bedside. "I'm going to step out into the hall and call Mason and the boys. They'll want to know the good news."

Emma wondered if Lacey were just saying that so that she could have a few moments with Steve, but she didn't question it. Instead, she just looked up at Steve again and smiled. "You're here."

"Of course I am." He sat down in the chair beside her bed, pulling the chair closer so that he could still hold her hand and look at her. "Alex called me, and I came immediately. Em…they weren't sure if you were going to make it."

"Takes more than a car crash to kill me." She tried to make her voice light, but it only came out as mildly pained. She closed her eyes in a brief wince. "What happened?"

"An SUV blindsided you and Dave. Dave's ok. He was a little banged up, but he's perfectly ok," Steve said quickly, seeing Emma's eyes widen with panic. Her grey-green eyes instantly relaxed at hearing that her younger cousin was ok, and she gave a tiny nod. Steve didn't think that now was the time to discuss the fact that the accident had been set up; as much as he wanted to tell her the truth, she was barely lucid, and he could tell that it wouldn't be long before she wanted to sleep again.

"My injuries?" she asked sleepily.

"Took a pretty hard knock to the head, some broken ribs, cuts, and a broken leg," he replied, choosing to go the short route.

"A pretty hard knock to the head?" Emma repeated. "That's the worst of it?"

"They put you in a medically-induced coma for a week to get the swelling in your brain to go down. They weren't sure if you were going to wake up once they took you off the medicine," he said. His thumb brushed over her wrist as her large, beautiful eyes calmly regarded him.

"Scale of one to 10, how bad do I look?" she asked.

"One being the worst?" Steve questioned in an attempt to clarify. He noticed that she was trying to use as few words as possible as the pain medication seemed to take her back under its spell.

"Yes. One is worst," she replied.

"I'd say a 30," Steve thoughtfully said as he looked over her. She smiled her painful little smile, and she gave a tiny, groggy shake of her head.

"You're lying," she said.

"I'm always honest," he firmly replied. And yet, in the back of his mind, he thought about Peggy and how he'd gone to visit her. He hadn't told Emma yet, and he dreaded telling her. He knew he needed to, but God, things always got more difficult, it seemed.

"Wait, I've been out for a week?" Emma asked, confused.

"Yeah, a little longer than a week, but a week more or less," Steve answered. She frowned and made a displeased face, though the medication seemed to be winning in knocking her out again.

"I'm a -30," she said. "Haven't showered…brushed my teeth…" Her voice trailed off as her eyes began to close. Steve leaned forward and kissed her forehead again.

"You're perfect," he whispered against her hairline, his words caressing her as she drifted off to sleep. Behind him, he heard Lacey's footsteps as she entered the room again.

"She's asleep?" she asked.

"Yeah. The meds looked like they were pulling her under again," Steve replied, and he sat back down, still holding on tight to her hand.

"I called everyone. They're going to come when they get off work and have one on one visits with her. We don't want to overwhelm her too much with all of us piling in here to welcome her back to the land of the living," Lacey said, crossing closer towards the bed, her arms folded across her chest. "God, it's a relief to know that she woke up."

"And doesn't have any memory loss, as far as we can tell," Steve added.

"That, too," Lacey agreed. "See, I told you she was a strong girl. She can survive a plane crash, she can survive this. She might not be Grace Marks, but she can survive a lot."

Steve knew this to be true.

* * *

By the time the afternoon rolled around, Emma was relatively lucid and awake, and she was able to spend some time with her family as they told her about all the things she'd missed since she'd been passed out. Apparently, Laura was still under the weather and had had to miss another day of work, but other than that, Emma had basically missed nothing more than every day life.

Every half hour or so, Dr. Carmichael or one of the nurses came by to check her vitals and to give her any medicine that she needed; truthfully, Emma felt pretty ok until the pain medication started to wear off, and she was then hit by a wave of pain that she wasn't ready for. It killed Steve to see her in so much pain, but at least she was awake.

Finally, everyone cleared out of the room, and it was just Emma and Steve. Emma seemed to be fairly awake and alert, and she steadily gazed at Steve as he shut the door to her hospital room behind him. He crossed over towards her and sat at the end of her bed.

"How's my best girl doing?" he asked.

"Better," she replied. "I'm still in a lot of pain, but I'm not as foggy as I was when I woke up. I'm mainly just tired, I think."

"I'm just glad you're awake," Steve said earnestly, and he placed one hand on her good leg.

"I'm glad you're here," Emma replied. "Things weren't exactly the best between us last time I saw you."

"And I'm sorry. That's on me," Steve said.

"It was me, too," Emma said diplomatically. Steve pressed his lips together as he realized that this was his moment to tell her about Peggy. On one hand, he didn't want to get into it right after she'd woken up, but on the other hand, he didn't want to wait much longer. If they were going to duke it out, he wanted to get it done with as soon as possible. The guilt that crushed him was a lot for him to bear on top of the guilt he already felt about her being in this situation. In Steve's mind, if he hadn't been such a jerk over the whole Peggy thing, she never would've fled to Connecticut, and he could've kept her safe from whoever it was that had tried to kill her.

And then that was a whole other topic that he needed to talk to her about, too. All of these things he needed to tell her and not enough time to figure out when the timing was right. He looked at her and saw the swollen, yellowing bruises, the angry stitches, and the calm of her sea-colored eyes. Yet underneath the physical injury, he saw the young woman who'd saved him from himself and the frustration of modern technology.

"No, it was me," he said quietly, fully taking responsibility. Then he smirked at her. "And don't argue with me. You need to be using your energy for getting better. Not arguing."

"Are those orders?" she asked. He nodded. "Ok, then I guess I can't go against Captain's orders."

"Smart woman. You have the makings of a fine soldier, Miss Carroll," Steve said brightly. Emma laughed softly, a pained grimace coming over her face at the movement of the laughter, and she stopped, though she still looked amused.

"I'd be a terrible soldier," she said.

"No, you wouldn't. Grace would be a terrible soldier," he corrected. "Speaking of Grace, she sent us one of those really delicious fruit baskets."

"Edible Arrangement?" Emma asked, her eyes lighting up. Steve nodded, and he grinned at how excited she looked. "She's always on point with those."

"And speaking of gifts, people all over the country have been sending you flowers, cards, anything and everything under the sun," Steve said in a matter of fact tone. Emma sighed and shook her head, a shocked look on her face.

"I'm not a celebrity," she said in protested. "That's you."

"Word got out about the accident. It's been all over the news. Besides, last time I checked, the media loved you and was calling you America's Sweetheart," Steve replied with a smirk. Emma winced, and she nodded in agreement.

"Unfortunately," she said. Neither of them said anything for a few moments, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. "You should get some sleep, Steve. You look exhausted."

Steve couldn't help the smile that pulled his lips upward. Emma had kind of been on death's doorstep, and yet there she was after not having even been awake for a full 24 hours telling him that he should be taking better care of himself. _You can take the nurse out of the hospital, but you can't take the nurse out of the person_, he thought to himself. Even if Emma hadn't been a nurse, though, that aspect of her personality was just a part of who she was; she took care of people. She looked out for those that she loved, and she made sure that they were ok because that was just the kind of person she was.

"I don't want to leave you," he honestly answered.

"You're not leaving me," Emma protested gently. "I'm getting ready to pass out, anyway. I've spent the past two hours with my family, and even though I love them to death, they can wear a person out." Her eyes scanned over Steve's face, and she saw his reluctance. "I'll still be here. I'll wake up again tomorrow."

Steve blinked in surprise, clearly not having expected to hear her nail the problem on the head. "I'm really that transparent?"

"Yes and no," Emma replied. "You put on that brave face whenever you feel like you have to be strong for someone else, and you're wearing it now. And lucky for me, I know you like the back of my hand."

"Do you?" Steve asked, amused. "Don't answer. You do." He stood up and crossed to the head of the bed, and he leaned forward to gently kiss her on the mouth. "I'm holding you to that promise. To wake up tomorrow."

"And I'll come through," she said sincerely. Steve brushed a hand over her cheek, and his eyes skimmed over her face, searching for any kind of sign that she wouldn't be there when he came back tomorrow, that he would have lost her again. But all he saw was exhaustion and truthfulness, and he backed away.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too," she whispered back. "Thank you for being here."

"I wouldn't be anywhere else. Good night."

"Good night, Steve." She watched Steve leave the room, and she let out the breath of pain that she'd been keeping in while he'd been there. Even though she was drugged up and groggy, she knew whenever something was on her Super Soldier's mind, and just by looking at him, she could tell that he wanted to talk to her about something.

She hadn't been lying when she'd said that she knew him like the back of her hand; to some degree she did. She could take one look at him and know that something was wrong with him and be spot on about it 90% of the time. And Steve was the same way with her; he could often tell how her day had gone just by the way she answered the phone. Emma cherished the kind of relationship that she had with him because she couldn't imagine that very many couples in the world were like that. Not many people could just glance at someone else and know what was wrong, but with she and Steve, they could do that for each other in a heartbeat.

Hell, they'd do anything for each other in a heartbeat, and she knew it. Robin had been speaking the truth when she'd said that she was convinced Steve would go to the ends of the Earth and back for Emma, and Emma certainly didn't doubt it. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep again, but instead of memories of Steve playing across the backs of her eyelids, she saw images of hope for the days that would come.

* * *

Steve could say a lot of things about Grace, but she was reliable, that was for sure. The phone had barely rung once before she answered.

"Oh, say can you see," she greeted cheerfully.

"That's how you answer my calls now?" Steve asked.

"Yep. The patriotic theme has finally grown on me. What's up? Why do you sound so happy?"

Again, leave it to Grace to know that he was in a better mood.

"Emma woke up."

"She did? Oh, my God. Is she ok?" Grace's voice instantly picked up in tone and pace the way it always did whenever she had her mind set on something, and right then, her mind was set on getting answers.

"Yeah, she is, thank God," Steve breathed into the phone. "Just got back to the house. She's been back since sometime in the afternoon, so it was good to…to have her back."

He hadn't expected the emotion to overwhelm him as strongly as it did just then. He sat down on the bed in the guest room and leaned back against the pillows as he tried to process the information himself. Emma had come back to him, and she seemed to be ok.

"Thank fuck. You have no idea how worried Tony and I have been about her." Grace's voice conveyed that what she was saying was true. "And don't you dare make a wisecrack about Tony having a heart. He likes Emma. She's always been very good to him when she's been assigned to him. She's been good to both of us."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Steve protested innocently, even though he'd totally been about to say something.

"Isn't it kind of funny that for all that time, she was waiting for you to wake up from the ice, but this time the roles were kind of reversed?" Grace asked.

"I mean, the irony doesn't escape me," Steve admitted with a small grin in towards the phone.

"You tell her about Peggy yet?" Grace suddenly asked, changing the subject. Steve was silent for a few seconds, but his hesitation was his answer. "Steve, you need to tell her."

"Dropping the bomb on her right after she's woken up isn't exactly the time and place to do it, Grace," he answered mildly. "She's still trying to catch up on everything she missed. She's in her readjustment period."

"Well, fine, when she's out of her readjustment period, talk to her," Grace ordered. "Actually, it's a good thing you called because I was getting ready to call you at some point either today or tomorrow, depending on the time, but we've been tracing the records on the vehicle that slammed into her," Grace said.

"What'd you find out?" Steve asked.

"Again, it's not good. Car came from Russia. Like, full on Soviet," Grace said, clicking the "t" at the end of "Soviet" for good measure. "But the fun part is that only the people who know these kinds of cars would know that."

"What do you mean?" Steve frowned. This goddamn thing kept seeming to get more and more complicated, and he had the feeling that he was digging into something that didn't want to be dug into.

"On the outside, it's made to look like only old SUV. In this case, it's a motherfucking Range Rover. But once you get into the heart of this bitch, there's all sorts of…special Soviet weaponry, to put it lightly," she replied. Steve paused. Soviet weaponry. That definitely sounded like something that didn't want to be dug into. "That's all we've been able to figure out. Tony's got Jarvis doing more background checks and doing all that fancy hacking stuff Jarvis does."

"So basically you're telling me that this isn't good," Steve said evenly.

"That's exactly what I'm telling you. From here on out, we've got to be super careful. If Em digging around her parents' files did this to her, you can only imagine what's going to happen to anyone else." Grace's voice was dead serious, and Steve knew that she was right. They both had an uneasy feeling about this, but he knew Grace, and he knew that she was backing him all the way on this, even if she didn't say as much.

"Ok," he said. "I'll call you with any more updates. Thank you for telling me what you found."

"No problem. Go take care of that girl of yours. She's taken care of you enough over the years. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Steve."

"Talk to you tomorrow." Steve hung up the phone and fought back the urge to throw it. With each new development involving the mysterious car crash, he was learning more that he wasn't sure he wanted to. But he knew one thing for sure: he may not have wanted to discover the truth behind this accident, but he sure as hell needed to.

* * *

Three days later Emma was cleared to go home as long as she stayed in bed and took it easy. While Emma wasn't thrilled with the fact that she couldn't go anywhere or do anything, considering the fact that she really was feeling pretty ok, she was just happy to go back to her house. Over the past three days, her family had been at the hospital nonstop. Lacey and Steve were there all morning and afternoon, and Mason, Alex, Evan, and Dave came in the evenings. To say that Emma was socially over stimulated was an understatement, and she was simply ready to be at home in the peace and quiet without nurses and doctors always coming to check up on her.

She was also ready to leave behind the memories she'd started having of her time in the hospital back when she was 11. That original experience of being in the hospital was the reason that she'd decided to become a nurse. Waking up only to hear that her parents were dead had been an understandably traumatic event for her, and she'd determined to fight her fears, to replace her bad memories with good ones.

Technically, her experience in the hospital this time around wasn't all that bad. Despite the constant attention from her family, there hadn't been anything traumatic that had left her feeling as though she needed to change those memories, too. Out of everything, the only really "bad" experiences that she had of being in the hospital this time were Steve's obviously bothersome thoughts.

She was ready to talk. She was ready to clear the air. Even though he'd been nothing but sweet and loving to her, there was still that underlying tension that existed from the last time they'd seen each other, and she was more than ready for it to be gone. Lacey had told her that she needed to tell him the truth about how she felt in regards to him and Peggy, and she was ready to do that.

But first, she had to get through dinner.

"I never thought I'd be so relieved to get a home-cooked meal," Emma sighed with delight as she bit into the burger that Mason and Evan had wound up grilling out back in the backyard.

"We know you love Mason's burgers," Lacey said. "Oh, honey, we're so glad you're home."

"Yeah, the hospital fucking sucks," Alex agreed. Lacey shot him an annoyed look, but she didn't correct him on his language.

"Yeah, try _being _in the hospital," Emma retorted with a smirk.

"You were unconscious for most of it," Alex argued. Emma couldn't hold back her grin. She'd been slightly afraid that her cousins would treat her as though she were fragile and would go easy on her, but Alex's easy arguments and teasing showed her that it was just going to be as if she hadn't left.

"Just because I was unconscious doesn't mean I didn't hate it," she said and made a face at him.

"Hey, hey, hey, enough," Mason spoke up. "We're having a nice family dinner tonight. How often do we get to have that? And we have Steve here with us. He's never seen a Carroll-Gallagher dinner with everyone here before, so we have a reputation to uphold."

"Steve doesn't care. Do you, Steve?" Evan asked easily.

"I'm just happy to have a good meal, sir," Steve replied, grinning. Emma felt a swell of pride in her chest as she looked to her right and took in the sight of Steve casually eating with her family. She felt like she should've been helping him transition into socializing with her aunt and uncle and cousins, but she had to remind herself that Steve had had almost two weeks with her family, and he was perfectly adjusted to them by now.

"We should've put you kids in the Army," Mason said with a pointed glance towards the three boys.

"And not me?" Emma asked as she raised her eyebrows.

"Dad, Emmy's been home for like, an hour, and you've already got her going off on a feminist rant," Evan sighed. He shot a quick look in Emma's direction. "Hey, I'm not complaining about your feminist rants because you know I support them." He glanced over at Steve and gestured towards him with his burger. "Em ever tell you she was part of Feminist Club in college?"

"Come on, I was part of a lot of clubs," Emma said. "Can we not do the whole Emma memories from high school and college? Jesus, I feel like I'm bringing home a guy for the first time."

"Because it _is _the first time," Alex said jovially. "I mean, the first serious guy, anyway. We hated Jordan and Caleb."

"Not at the table," Lacey quickly spoke up. "We're not going to talk about that at the table."

"You're not even drunk yet, and you're already being obnoxious," Emma said, and she took another bite of her burger. Glancing up at Steve, she gave him an apologetic look that she hoped conveyed how sorry she was for the conversation.

"You better be glad you just got out of the hospital, or I'd—"

"Hey!" Mason loudly interrupted Alex's retort. "Enough. I swear, it's like you're all back in high school again." He sighed and gave Steve his own apologetic headshake.

"What's Bruce Banner like?" Dave asked Steve, suddenly changing the conversation to something that wouldn't necessarily start World War III at the table. Steve smiled at the mention of the brilliant scientist.

"He's great. He's a good man. Smart. Resourceful. He keeps to himself a lot," he answered. "Out of everyone on the team, I probably know him and Clint the least, though."

"Who do you know the best?" Alex asked. Emma breathed a silent sigh of relief; sometimes Alex could be a dick, as much as she loved him, but the Avengers was always a safe topic with him. There was little chance of him acting up and being sassy when the Avengers came up.

"Agent Marks," Steve replied. "Scorpion."

"Agent Marks? That's that girl with the eyes?" Mason gestured up towards his own eyes. Steve grinned, and he nodded.

"Yes, that's Agent Marks," he said.

"You know, I don't think I even knew her name until you mentioned it. The media likes to call her Scorpion so much," he said.

"Dad, you totally know who Grace Marks is," Evan protested with a frown. "Remember, she's engaged to Tony Stark."

Emma put her hand on Steve's leg under the table to keep him from saying anything snarky about Tony. He caught onto why she was doing it, and she saw him press his lips together to hide the grin that threatened to give it away. Discreetly, he slid his own hand under the table and laced his fingers with hers. Emma stilled for a few seconds, surprised. No guy had ever held her hand under the table before. The gesture felt so high school, but it also felt…comforting. There was an innocence and sweetness to it that touched her and made her heart melt just a little bit more.

"Oh, yeah, that's right. I did know that. Stark. He seems like a funny guy," Mason said.

"He is," Emma said quickly before Steve could open his mouth.

"Yes," Steve added with a knowing smile in Emma's direction. "He's hilarious."

"We're so glad we finally got the chance to meet you, Steve. Emma always has wonderful things to say about you, and we know you make her happy," Lacey said, her eyes and voice mutually warm as she beamed at the two. Emma felt another swell of pride in her chest, and she squeezed Steve's hand beneath the table.

"It's a two-way street, ma'am. She makes me very happy," he said. "I don't know how I would've made the transition to modern times without her."

"How do you like the 21st century?" Alex asked. Emma shot him a sharp warning look, but he pretended not to see, instead keeping his dark grey eyes trained on Steve.

"I like it," Steve genuinely answered. "I never thought I'd say it, but I've found that I do. Personally, my favorite part about this day and age aside from Emma is the iPod."

"That's the first thing I taught you how to use, right?" Emma asked as she glanced towards Steve. He gave her an incredulous look and shook his head passionately.

"Nope. First thing you taught me how to use was a television remote," he said. "Then it was the iPod."

Emma paused as she went back through her memories. Pointing at him, she nodded in agreement. "You're right. I did teach you how to use the remote first. iPod was second."

"I still have that iPod, you know," Steve said thoughtfully. The rest of the dinner table seemed to melt away from him and Emma, and it was like they were in their own little world of shared memories.

"Really? You have a better one, though. You just got a new one this past Christmas," Emma said. She took another bite of her burger. She hadn't been expecting to devour it as quickly as she had, but in a few more bites, it would be gone. Again, she was reminded of how much she'd missed over the years since leaving home.

"Call me sentimental." Steve's face turned soft, and they smiled at each other in silence for a few seconds. Evan accidentally dropped the saltshaker, effectively snapping them out of the moment they'd been sharing with each other. Emma hadn't expected it, but it felt good to have Steve integrated with her family. It really felt like she were bridging both parts of her life: where she'd once found her home and where she now found her home.

If she could've held onto this feeling forever, she would have.

* * *

Later that night, Emma was thoroughly worn out. She leaned back against her propped up pillows and let out a sigh as Steve shut the door to her bedroom behind him.

"Are you ok?" he asked, his voice full of concern. "Do you need any more Percocet?"

"No, no, I'm ok," she said. "I'm just tired. Dinner was eventful."

Steve crossed to the bed and sat down on his side of it. Earlier that evening, Lacey had pulled Emma aside to give her a quick talk.

"Look, Em, no one in this house is under any false pretenses about your sleeping arrangements with Steve—"

"Aunt Lacey, it's not the 1940s. You don't need to refer to them as sleeping arrangements."

"I'm just saying! All I ask is that you please keep any noise down."

"What?!" Emma had stared in horror at her aunt. "Jesus, we're not going to—I just got out of the hospital. I have a broken leg. Aunt Lacey, he has to carry me up the stairs to get to my room. I really don't think—"

"I just wanted to give you a heads up is all. If the mood strikes, just please, for the love of God, keep the noise down." Lacey had leaned forward and kissed her niece on the forehead against her hairline. "Now go get 'im."

Steve looked over at her, his face soft and thoughtful as his light blue eyes scanned over her features. "I saw Peggy last week."

And just like that, he'd said what had been on his mind. Emma stopped mid-breath, and she blinked. She wasn't surprised, and yet she was, but she wasn't sure how to react in front of him. He was very carefully watching her for any kind of reaction, and she wanted to react in the way that stressed him out the least. But in the back of her mind, she heard Lacey telling her to talk to him and to share how she felt, so in that moment, she made the decision to do just that.

"I thought you would have," she said quietly.

"I've been trying to find the right time to tell you, but the timing has always been pretty crummy," Steve said, slipping into his natural slang. He reached up and scratched his forehead the way he always did whenever he was feeling anxious about something.

"How was it?" she asked. "Do you feel…how do you feel now that you went to see her?"

"It was…" Steve paused. How could he even describe it? "It was nice. She's a different person now. But it was good to see her again."

"I don't understand what that means," Emma said. She wasn't going to try to act like she knew because she didn't—she didn't understand what Steve was trying to tell her. It was clear that he was trying to get something across to her, but she just didn't know what it was. Her pulse began to quicken.

"Emma." Steve sat up, and he turned his body so that he was fully facing her. "Emma, I know I hurt you. I should've done things differently back home, but I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? Did you do something?" Emma asked, feeling a sense of anxiety rising within her. Quickly, Steve shook his head.

"No! No, no, no. Not at all. I'm just…I'm trying to say…I have closure. It was nice to talk to someone who understood who I used to be." He paused and breathed slowly, trying to think about how he wanted to say this. "She knew me back when I was a completely different person, and it was nice to have someone remember that side of me. But I'm…I'm different now. And I wouldn't trade anything about this life to go back to that life. And I should've talked to you more about this. I didn't, but I should have."

Emma looked at him with those large, beautiful eyes that he could swear saw straight into his soul. "I should've talked to you, too." She looked down at her hands, the lacerations on the back of her left hand still healing, and she flexed her fingers absentmindedly. "I should've told you how I really felt about you seeing her instead of shutting down the way I did. Selfishly, I didn't want you to see her because I thought you might remember that she was what you really wanted, and…God, I don't want to lose you." She looked back up at him with tears brimming in her eyes. "Steve, I really don't want to lose you, and I was scared that I would. I knew you needed that closure for your past, but it bothered me only because I was afraid you'd no longer be happy in our life together."

"Emma, no. No, honey, not at all." Steve moved forward to her and smoothed his hand over her hair. "I could never do that. I don't want to lose you, either, Em—I _can't_. I couldn't ever walk away from you, even if I wanted to. You were right when you said I needed closure, but if anything, it was closure on a part of my life that needed closure. Peggy's a part of my past, but you…Emma, you're my future. You've been my future the second you walked through that door to take my vitals."

Unable to keep her tears back, Emma blinked, and the tears went streaming down her face. She'd always known that Steve loved her—he never shied away from letting her know. He told her numerous times every day, and it wasn't uncommon for him to say sweet things that made her heart melt into a puddle of loving sap. She'd never questioned how he felt about her until Peggy had come back into their lives, and she'd been faced with the fact that Steve might want his old life back, a life that hadn't included her. But as he reassured her in a way he'd never reassured her before, she couldn't keep her tears at bay.

"I love you," she said, reaching her hand up to his wrist and tilting her face into his palm.

"Honey, I love you so much." Even more gentle than he usually was with her, he placed his hand on the other side of her face and leaned forward to kiss her softly on the mouth. The kiss wasn't long, but it wasn't short, either. It was just right to convey what they needed the other to understand. Steve pulled back and ran his thumbs over her cheekbones.

"I think I somehow knew you'd be a big part of my life, Steven. I just didn't know how," Emma said quietly. At the sound of his full name on her lips, he closed his eyes. It'd been very rare for anyone to call him Steven back in his younger days—his mother hadn't even called him Steven—but in Emma's mouth, it sounded perfect to him.

"You're everything to me," he said, his eyes still closed. He felt her tilt her forehead forward just enough so that it rested against his, and he opened his eyes to look at her. Since they were so close to each other, she looked like a Cyclops, but by God, she was the most gorgeous damn Cyclops he'd ever seen. He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Me too," he whispered back. He pulled back and quickly stood up before she could say anything, and he walked around the bed to her side to turn the lamp out. They were both in darkness, sensing where the other was as their eyes adjusted to the darkness in the room. Emma felt him pull the covers back and slide underneath them so that he was next to her. Without verbalizing anything, she knew what to do. She slid down farther under the comforter on her bed, careful to keep her broken leg elevated and safe from harm's way, and she positioned her body so that Steve could protectively wrap around her in their familiar, comfortable way they fell asleep each night.

Her heart broke as his torso came into contact with her back. She'd missed this. She'd missed Steve and every little thing about him, but she'd especially missed this part. Maybe it was the whole superhero, Avenger thing, or maybe it was the fact that he was just Steve, but she never felt safer than she did when he curled around her and shielded her from everything that could harm her.

He kissed the back of her shoulder. "My future is always with you."

She put her hand on top of his and closed her eyes.

"And mine is with you."

* * *

_**Captain America: The Winter Soldier **_**preview**

Natasha glanced up at Steve, her green eyes glinting mischievously. "You know, if you asked Emma to marry you, she'd say yes."

"That's why I don't ask." Steve smirked. Interested, amused, and even mildly confused, Natasha tilted her head to the side curiously.

"Too shy or too scared?" she called over the roar of the jet's engines, watching as the back part of the jet opened for Steve to jump out. The Super Soldier briefly glanced back over his shoulder at her.

"Too busy!" he called back, and then he was gone, leaping out of the jet with ease. Grace lifted her eyebrows and pursed her lips at her redheaded partner.

"Told you it'd take them forever," she said.


	14. Changes

**Shoutouts to Lilybear3121, RedRoses5, la misteriosa volpe, KD Skywalker, MsRose91, Jo, thecruelworldwelivein, stuffoflegends, and LilyHiddleston96 for reviewing! Some of you commented that you actually listened to the song I suggested while reading, and ugh, I'm glad that you got the same emotions from it that I did. I always get happy whenever people listen to the songs I suggest to help with emotions =)**

**I'm so glad y'all liked the preview for _The Winter Soldier! _I thought that was a fun little scene to do for the preview =) Yay, I'm glad you guys enjoyed it.**

**Up ahead, we've got some fluff, a little bit of action, and a tiny bit of drama. I don't know how many more chapters of this I'm going to write since most everything is getting wrapped up. I would guess maybe 3 or so more chapters? I'm not sure. It depends on where exactly I want to go with the ending of this and how I want the ending to lead into _The Winter Soldier_. So just as a heads up, there may be about 3 more chapters left.**

**Also, it seems that I started writing a Black Widow/Hawkeye origin story last night. It's called _Girl, Compromised_, so if y'all want to check that out, feel free to =)**

**Ok. Please leave thoughts, comments, opinions, suggestions. If any of y'all have any ideas on how to end this or where to go next with it, feel free to let me know! I'm definitely open to suggestions!**

**For extra emotions, listen to "Something New" - Tom Fletcher. (I think you'll have to YouTube it) This song comes in handy during the fluffy moments, but it _especially _gives extra emotions after Alex and Emma have their talk towards the end of this chapter.**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 14

When Emma slowly realized that she was coming back to consciousness, she felt warm. She hadn't felt warm like this in a long time, and it wasn't uncomfortable. In fact, she wanted to snuggle in closer to it, so she did. A soft sigh came from behind her, and she felt some movement against the top of her back.

"Are you awake?" she quietly asked, her voice husky from sleeping.

"Mm-mm," Steve replied, but she could hear the smile in his voice. Her broken leg was hurting, but it wasn't bad enough where she wanted to untangle herself from Steve's warm, protective body. She wiggled in closer towards him, pressing her back against his broad, solid chest. Sometimes she wasn't convinced that he was actually human; his muscles seemed to be an entity all of their own.

"I know why your muscles are so big," she said out loud. She felt Steve's forehead lift from the back of her neck as she caught his attention.

"Yeah?" he asked, his own voice deep and husky. Emma was never sure if she found his sleepy voice adorable or sexy, but when her stomach muscles clenched at the sound of his voice, she knew that today she found it sexy.

"Yeah," she said.

"Why?" Steve asked, amusement dripping through his tone.

"All the freedom," Emma replied. Steve's forehead fell back into place against her shoulder blade, and he sighed.

"Always the freedom jokes," he said, the vibrations of his voice against the bare skin of her shoulder making a chill go down her spine.

"I want to brush my teeth," Emma sighed. She shifted slightly so she could eye the bathroom door that was attached to her room.

"I can carry you," Steve teased, knowing how much she hated being carried. Quickly, she shook her head.

"No, no, no," she said. Reluctantly, Steve pulled away from her and sat up, yawning and covering his mouth as he did so.

"I can bring you your toothbrush and a cup," he said.

"Would you mind?" Emma looked up at him with huge, hopeful eyes, and he couldn't tell her no, even though he hadn't been planning on telling her no. He shook his head and turned to go to the bathroom. He'd moved his stuff from the guest bedroom into Emma's room last night, and he was thankful he'd thought to do it last night instead of trying to quietly do it this morning. He squeezed out toothpaste onto his toothbrush and did the same for Emma's before grabbing a paper cup from the side of the sink and taking it to her in the bedroom. Eagerly, she took it from him and began brushing. Steve rubbed his eyes as being awake settled into his bones more prominently.

Even though they weren't in their D.C. home, their morning together felt easy and comfortable. They brushed their teeth in mutual silence, and when Emma was done, he got her another paper cup to rinse her mouth and spit. Finally, they were both done, and he got back in bed with her, wrapping her up tightly in his arm, though he was careful not to hold her too tightly to hurt her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her.

"Mmm." Emma did an assessment of her pain levels, starting at her head and working her way downward. "Pretty ok. I could be worse. It's mainly my leg that hurts more than anything."

"Do you need your meds?" Steve asked, and he pulled away slightly as if he were going to get up, but Emma quickly shook her head.

"No, no, no. Stay," she said. "I'm fine. I'm ok. It hurts, but it's not bad enough to dose me up just yet."

"Ok." He settled back down under the covers with her.

"Look at you. You'd be a damn good nurse, Captain Rogers," she teased. She turned over onto her back to look at him more directly. He grinned at her, and she fell in love all over again as she looked at him smiling.

"I learned from the best," he said. "All these years you've been taking care of me, it's about time I got to take care of you."

"Oh, are we starting in on those old fashioned standards of yours about how men have to take care of women?" Emma lifted her eyebrows and smirked playfully at him. "Because that conversation reeks of patriarchal constructs."

"So you were in Feminist Club in college?" Steve asked. Emma sighed and brushed a hand over her face, hiding herself from him.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I was. I don't know why my cousins think it's hilarious to bring up my extracurriculars at the table. Or just my high school and college years in general," she mumbled into her hand. Steve laughed and brought his hand up to bring hers down, kissing her fingertips as he lowered her hand.

"Personally, I loved hearing about it," he said. "I'd love to hear more about what you did in high school and college."

"Oh, don't you dare bring that up in front of my family," Emma replied, her eyes widening as she stared at him. "They'll jump on any chance to brag about me."

"Brag about you? So you were a good student, huh?" Steve carefully adjusted himself so that he was facing her straight on without worrying about bumping into her leg.

"Something like it." Emma shrugged, the movement awkward with her sideways position. She paused, her grey-green eyes searching over his face as if she were desperately trying to memorize every feature about him. "You know, when I was in that coma for a week, I was reliving my memories."

"You were?" Steve asked. She nodded against her pillow, her gaze still on him.

"I was reliving all my memories with you," she said. "Our first date, our double dates with Felicia, our downtime, our silly times…everything. I was literally reliving each moment as if I were going through it again."

"Was that weird?" Steve questioned as he tried to read her face. Emma thought about it, and then she finally shook her head.

"No," she said quietly. "It was beautiful. It was…a real reminder of everything we have together. Of why I'm in love with you. And I needed that, you know? I think I…I needed to relive those moments because of my insecurities over Peggy, and…" Her voice trailed off, but she didn't look away from him.

"You know I meant everything I said last night, right?" Steve lowered his own voice so that it was the same volume as hers, almost a whisper.

"Of course. Of course I do." Emma quickly nodded and lifted her hand to brush over his face. "I don't doubt it at all."

"Good," Steve replied with a small smile. "Because I'm serious. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Without you, there's no future for me. I feel like every moment I spent in my past was leading up to you." His blue eyes darkened a little bit, and he lowered them away from her eyes. "I always remember this one time…it was the night before Bucky shipped out, and…and I asked him where we were going, and he said 'the future.' Em…he was right. That night was the night I was chosen to be part of SSR. That was the night that everything changed for me to lead me to you. Even back then, you were my future."

"I'll never be able to tell you how much I love you," Emma said, her hand still on his face. Suddenly, she laughed softly and shook her head. "Look at us. We're so dramatic."

"But I love that." Steve tilted his head forward and finally kissed her. His lips were soft and sweet against hers, his mouth slightly open as he kissed her. She smiled against his lips and slid her hand around to the back of his head, her fingers playing with the short hair at the nape of his neck. She pulled back and sighed happily.

"Tastes like freedom and justice," she said. Steve rolled his eyes, but he tilted his head down and kissed her one last time.

"I don't want to get up," he admitted.

"Neither do I," she said. "If we could stay in bed all day, that'd be heaven."

"Oh, yeah, it would be," Steve said with a suggestive smirk. Emma lifted her eyebrows in pleased amusement, and she snuggled closer to him.

"Flirty, suggestive Steve is one of my favorite Steves," she said. "I wish my leg weren't broken. Though that'd be a fun challenge."

"Whoa, I'm not trying to hurt you even more." Steve wrapped his arm back around her waist and pulled her into him, his blue eyes gazing softly at her. "I'm already scared I'm going to hurt you."

"Oh, you can't hurt me," she said. He opened his mouth to protest, but she covered his mouth with her hand. "Ok, you can. You can hurt me since you're like, Captain America and everything, but you don't have to worry about hurting me. I'm a big girl."

Silence passed between the two of them as he smiled at her. "'Jingle Jangle Jingle.'"

Emma frowned in confusion. "What?"

"Name that song," Steve prompted. Emma's face instantly lit up. For the past year and a half, this had been one of their favorite games to play with each other, and she realized that they hadn't played it in a long time.

"That's easy. Kay Kyser," she said. "You know that's one of my favorite songs from your time. You're supposed to be challenging me."

"I know. Just letting you think you're winning for now." He kissed her on the cheek and sat up, patting her hip over the covers as he yawned and stretched. "Time to get up, Miss Carroll. Your aunt Lacey's probably thinking we're up to no good."

"If it weren't for my leg…" Emma allowed her voice to trail off as she smirked at Steve. He stood up and winked back at her. Happily, she sighed, and she sat up as best as she could with her painful leg. Even through the pain of it, she felt ok, and she knew it had nothing to do with any amount of painkillers in the world.

* * *

It was around 2:00 in the afternoon when Lacey turned on the TV and froze. She, Steve, and Emma were in the living room since Emma had been adamant about not staying in her room all day, and they'd just finished a batch of homemade grilled cheeses and decided to show Steve _The Descendants _with George Clooney. Steve hadn't seen many Clooney films, and both Carroll women had determined that Steve _needed _to see _The Descendants _ASAP.

But when Lacey turned on the TV, the news was on, and top headline was one of Tony Stark's cars had blown up outside his house earlier that morning when Grace Marks had tried to leave. Emma felt Steve's body stiffen beside her, and he immediately grabbed his phone as she put a hand on his arm. Luckily, Grace had gotten out of it alive—not even a scratch—but Steve needed to hear it from her.

"Hello?" Like clockwork, the first ring had barely finished before Grace answered.

"Grace. We just saw the news," Steve said, his voice authoritative and worried. Grace snorted.

"I know. Can you fucking believe it? Someone tried to fucking kill me. I mean, that's kind of what I do for a living…avoid getting killed by bad guys, but this was…this was something. They blew up Tony's car. I think he's more upset over that than anything," she said. Steve could hear shouting in the background. Grace huffed an annoyed sigh. "I _know _you're glad I'm ok, but—goddammit, Tony…Tony, can you—…ok, how about this? Why don't you go work out in the gym downstairs, and I'll come down after I'm off the phone. That way you'll have worked off this excess anger, and you'll be—…Tony, this _is _excess anger! Tony. Go. Just go." She sighed again. "Steve, I'm sorry. Are you there?"

"Yeah, I'm here," Steve replied, a confused but entertained smile playing across his lips. "Tony sounded angry."

"Yeah, he's mad because one of his cars got destroyed, and I almost got hurt, but I keep saying he's more upset over his car getting blown up, and that pisses him off," Grace flippantly answered. "But hey, Steve, I think we need to lie low on Emma's case for a little while. The car was specifically targeted, and I have the strangest feeling that it wasn't a disgruntled fan or some shit."

"You think it's tied in?" Steve asked. He didn't even wait for Grace to answer. "It makes sense."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Emma frown in confusion, and he knew that she had no idea what the hell was going on. He hadn't told her about the fact that her car accident had been planned—he'd wanted to get the Peggy thing out of the way first, and now that that was done, he'd been trying to figure out how to tell her that what had happened to her had been very much on purpose.

"Soviet explosive on the bottom. Recognized it as soon as I saw it in the wreckage. Soviet car crashed into Emma, and then a Soviet explosive on my car? Way too much in common. Whoever's behind this tried to blow me up for digging around into it," Grace said.

"Dammit," Steve said quietly. "How long should we lay off? Grace, I don't want to put you in danger. I can do this myself."

"Fuck no," Grace said with an indignant snort. "You're not going it alone. We're in it together, Steve. I have your back. What does Em think of all of this?"

Steve was silent.

"Dammit, Steve, you still haven't told her yet?"

"I'm going to!" Steve protested.

"So do it now. Call me later if anything happens. I'll do the same for you," Grace said. "I've got to go see if Tony's cooled down enough. He's been a bit emotional lately."

"Ok. I'm glad you're ok, Grace." Steve's voice was sincere. "I'll talk to you later."

"Alright, Captain. Give Em a hug for me." And with that, Grace hung up. Steve pressed his thumb to the glass screen to hang up, and he looked over at Emma. She was staring up at him with a perplexed look in her sea-colored eyes, clearly worried about Grace. Steve wondered how much she'd heard.

"Grace is ok," he said. Emma sighed and leaned her head back against the couch.

"Good," she said. "I know the news said she was ok but still…"

"I know. They also said Tony was dead, and he was very much _not _dead," Steve said, referring to the Mandarin incident when all the news stations had reported Tony Stark as being killed in action when really, he'd been very much alive.

"True," Emma agreed. "Did she have any idea who did it?"

Steve sighed. This was another moment of truth that he needed to come clean on. "Em…the car accident you were in…" He paused and looked over Emma's head to Lacey, who nodded encouragingly at him. "It wasn't an accident."

Emma blinked at him, an incomprehensive look on her face. "What?"

"Someone planned that accident. There wasn't a driver at the wheel, and even though it looked like a regular Range Rover, it was actually a Soviet car designed to secretly carry weapons," he said. Emma frowned, but she kept her gaze on him as she tried to process everything he was saying.

"You're sure?" she asked.

"Yes," Steve sincerely answered. He scratched his forehead with his thumb, the nervous tic not escaping Emma's notice. Gently, she took his hand and lowered it, holding it firmly in hers. "Grace has been researching and running all kinds of checks…whatever she can get her hands on."

"Oh," Emma said. She looked down at both of their hands intertwined together, and she swallowed. "It's because I'm looking into my parents' deaths."

"Most likely," Steve said. "Em, we're going to find out what happened. I promise you we're going to find out who did this to you, who did this to your parents, everything."

"And they targeted Grace because she was looking into it," Emma said, seeming not to hear Steve as her mind raced. "They tried to kill her because of this."

"Em. Em, look at me. There's something very serious going on here, but _I promise you_ that I'm going to stop it," he said. Emma finally looked up at him; he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting from her in terms of a reaction. He remembered how she'd fallen apart at finding out the truth about her parents, but now, she looked more worried than upset.

"I don't want anyone else getting hurt. You…_Grace_. It's—"

"Whoever's doing this has to be stopped, and I'm not resting until I find out," Steve said firmly. Emma knew the tone of his voice well—he was no longer Steve Rogers. In front of her was Captain Steve Rogers, Army captain and American hero. She knew that whenever he was Captain Rogers, there was no talking him out of anything, so she nodded.

"Ok," she said.

"Grace suggested we take a break from researching for a while, though," Steve said. "It's too dangerous right now to take on anything else. The attacker's looking for us to be moving, so we've got to keep our heads down."

"Good," Emma said quickly. "That's good. I don't…I don't want you getting wrapped up into this, but since you're going to, I'm glad that you're taking it easy or whatever."

Steve nodded, his eyebrows drawn together, and he pulled her into his arms and kissed her on top of her head. Suddenly, Lacey sighed and drew them out of their serious moment together.

"That's the first time I saw that polite young man attitude disappear," Lacey said with an impressed voice. "No wonder Em's stuck around as long as she has."

Emma laughed and pulled away from Steve, though she still kept her body right next to his. "Aunt Lacey, don't feed his ego."

"Ego? What ego?" Steve asked, smiling as he relaxed back into the feeling of being with Emma and her aunt. He hadn't expected to feel so welcome and so at ease with these people who'd raised Emma and had undoubtedly been apprehensive of the idea of her superhero boyfriend, but he felt comfortable with him. Being with the Carroll-Gallagher family was like being with a family he'd never really had.

"That humble act? It's all for the cameras," Emma said teasingly.

"It's not my fault I can run a mile in something like, two minutes," Steve added innocently, but his light blue eyes glinted mischievously. Emma lightly swatted his arm, but she rested her head against his shoulder. So her car accident had been planned; someone had purposefully targeted her. A chill ran down her spine, but she kept her body from having a physical reaction. In the long run of things, she was so insignificant compared to Steve that it was difficult for her to wrap her head around the fact that someone had actually set out with the intent of killing her.

But as Lacey got the movie started, Emma continued to lean into Steve, trying to remind herself that she really was safe.

* * *

Later that night, Carroll-Gallagher family dinner was a nightmare. Since Emma was in town and had nearly been killed, the cousins had all made the collective decision to go over to Lacey and Mason's house every night for dinner so that they could have an evening in with the cousin they weren't sure they'd see again for three years when she left.

But instead of the usual easy laughter and chatter, there was hostility and tension. Emma couldn't remember the last time she'd had such a tense dinner, and she uncomfortably glanced up at Steve to make sure that he was ok. Throughout the evening, he'd been the perfect gentleman, as always. He never once forgot his "ma'ams" and "sirs," and he was the right amount of friendly and serious. He didn't appear to be too fazed by the hostile environment, but Emma knew him, and she knew that he was dying to get out of the dining room just as much as she was.

Alex had come over in a horrible mood; Laura had decided to stay home because she was still sick, but Alex had been an enormous douche the entire night, and Emma was getting sick of it. Then again, she was also coming down off of her pain meds, and her leg was hurting her more than it had throughout the day, and that only added to her displeasure of the whole night.

"Dave, when are you going to bring Cara over?" Mason asked. "She seemed like a nice girl when we met her."

"Oh, I don't know," Dave replied, and he looked down at his plate. "We've only been on a few dates."

"Are you still seeing her?" Lacey asked, looking concerned. Dave sharply glanced up, and he nodded.

"Yeah, we're still seeing each other," he said. "I just haven't found the opportunity to invite her over yet."

"You should invite her for tomorrow night," Lacey said. "I'm sure Emma would love to meet her."

"Yeah, I would," Emma agreed. "I've heard a lot about this Cara girl since I've been here, but I still have yet to put a face to the name. She sounds smart."

"I'll ask," Dave noncommittally answered. Emma smiled; this wasn't unusual of Dave to want to bring the girl he was seeing home. He was so much more private than either of his brothers, and he wasn't as involved with social interactions as they were. To him, a party was ordering in Chinese with his small, close-knit group of friends and having foreign movie night or something like that. Out of everyone in the Carroll-Gallagher family—including Emma—Dave was the most artsy and into artsy things like foreign films. Emma always tried to watch them with him because he got so excited and passionate over them, but she just couldn't get past hearing a foreign language and then seeing the English subtitles at the bottom while also trying to focus on the action.

"How are we going to explain Captain America?" Alex asked in a bored tone. An uncomfortable silence passed throughout the room, and Emma's eyes grew wide. She cleared her throat and looked to Evan for help. He was usually the mediator, and if things got worse, Emma stepped in to calm any fighting.

"I don't fucking know. We tell the truth?" Evan suggested.

"Evan," Lacey snapped. "I can't control Alex when he swears, but please, can you not? Especially at the table? I feel like I raised a bunch of animals. Em and Dave are the only ones who keep their mouths under control around me."

"Cara knows he and Em are together," Dave replied, completely ignoring Lacey's interjection. "I didn't hide that from her."

"So what if she's dating you to get to Captain America?" Alex asked, lifting his eyebrows and pointing his fork at Dave as if he'd discovered a brilliant idea.

"Hey, Cara's not that kind of girl," Evan interjected quickly. "She's nice. She really likes Dave."

"How do you know it's not an act?" Alex asked. Emma put her fork and knife down and glared at her older cousin.

"Alex," she snapped. He looked over at her and innocently shrugged, his grey eyes blasé and completely unconcerned with everything he was doing.

"I'm just saying," he protested. "I'm looking out for my baby brother."

"No, you're not. You're being a dick," she angrily argued. "What's wrong with you?"

"Uh oh. Time to pull the pills out and get her drugged up again," Alex said with a smirk.

"Alex!" Mason shouted. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me," Alex casually answered. "Absofuckinglutely nothing."

"_Dammit_, Alex!" Lacey exclaimed. "We have company, and you're not going to—"

"Steve's not company!" Alex protested. "He's basically already family. He and Em moved in together, and you know they're fuc—"

"Alex, I swear to God, if you don't—"

"Laura's pregnant."

Emma stopped breathing as soon as the words were out of Alex's mouth. He looked around at everyone at the table, his grey eyes surveying everyone's reactions. Lacey's mouth was open, Mason looked horrified, Evan looked mildly shocked, Dave didn't appear to be surprised at all, Steve looked terribly uncomfortable, and Emma looked as though she were going to vomit. A horrible silence settled over the room, and Alex silently nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "She's pregnant. That's why she's missed so much work."

"Oh," Evan said tonelessly, his face showing that he was frantically trying to find a proper reaction.

"Holy shit," Lacey breathed. She ran a hand through her dark hair and shook her head. "Ok. Well, that explains the foul mood you've been in tonight."

"I found out right before I came," Alex said. "She wasn't feeling well enough to come, and so I came without her, and…yeah…it's just one thing after another, isn't it?"

Quietly, he pushed his chair back, and he stood up and walked to the kitchen and out the back door. Emma wished that she didn't need crutches, or else she would've gone after him. The awkward silence that followed his exit was so thick that she was sure just by exhaling, she could carve through it.

"Have you ever had fondue?" Steve asked suddenly. Emma blinked, totally thrown off by his question. She looked up at him and saw that he was looking about nervously and was just grasping for straws to find conversation.

"Yes, there's a great place in town. Did they have fondue in the '40s?" Lacey asked. Steve smiled, and he nodded.

"Yeah, there was fondue," he said. "It's probably more common now since, um…fondue wasn't…all that common back then."

He looked like he were trying not to start laughing, and Emma looked curiously at him. He grinned at her, shaking his blond head.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," Steve replied, even though the smile was wide across his face as he tried to contain his laughter.

"Hon?" she prompted.

"This isn't exactly table conversation—" Steve started out.

"Perfect. It's just right for our table then," Evan jubilantly interrupted. "In case you haven't been able to tell, we don't exactly have orthodox conversations."

"At least it keeps things interesting," Dave added with a small smile. Steve's grin only spread even farther.

"Back during the war, I wasn't all that hip to…sexual slang, and one of my friends asked another one of our friends if she wanted to get fondue after we ran our mission, but I thought he was asking her to have sex with him." Steve no longer bothered to choke down his laughter. Emma started snickering, but her snickers grew into full out hearty chuckles as she realized what Steve had said and watched him crack himself up over it.

"Wait, you really thought fondue meant sex?" Evan asked. Steve nodded, laughing and self-consciously scratching his forehead at the same time. At Steve's confirmation, Evan began doubling over in laughter, and before Emma knew it, the entire table was laughing over Steve's confusion. Steve's face was healthily flushed with color from laughing so hard, and he shook his head as he looked down at his plate.

"That wasn't appropriate to say at the table. I'm so sorry," he said, but he was laughing as he did it.

"Please, don't apologize," Mason spoke up, his own smile wide and happy. "I think after tonight, I'm safe to say that we all needed that laugh."

Emma hadn't realized it until that moment, but she'd needed that laugh for the past two or three weeks; she couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so hard, and she hadn't known that she'd needed it until then. Steve brought so many things into her life; he brought laughter, tenderness, love, knowledge, protection…anything and everything she ever could've hoped for.

She looked up at him and reached for his hand under the table. When her fingers interlaced with his, she never wanted to let him go.

* * *

Half an hour later, and Alex was still outside. Emma knew that she couldn't discreetly get up from the table anymore since, well, she was a gimp on crutches, but she tried to draw as little attention to herself as possible as she scooted her chair back and lifted the crutches from her side. Lacey glanced up at her to check in with her, but Emma dismissively waved her hand to let Lacey know she was ok. Steve had engaged everyone in a story about one of the World War II battles History books had gotten wrong, and he was explaining the details of it.

Quietly and somewhat clumsily, Emma crutched her way around the table, through the kitchen, and the door to the back porch. Alex was sitting on the top step, and he turned to look up at her. He frowned, noticing her awkward stance.

"Do you need help?" he asked.

"No. No, I'm cool." Emma quickly crutched out of the way of the door so that it wouldn't fall on her. She could feel Alex's grey eyes keep their steady gaze on her as she made her way over towards him before finally lowering herself onto the top step. "You doing ok?"

"Yeah," Alex answered casually. He paused. "No."

"Not the right time to have a baby?" Emma asked. Alex pressed his lips together and shook his head.

"Nope," he said. "I mean, financially, everything's great. Laura could technically quit her job, and we'd be fine because I make enough as Editor. But…I don't know. This just isn't how I planned it."

"I understand," Emma said. "Have you guys even talked about getting married?"

"Yeah, we've talked about it before. I know she's more on that train than I am." Alex kept staring at the grass down at the bottom of the steps. "This is just shitty timing, you know? You come back, then you nearly die, and the day you're out of the hospital, Laura finds out she's pregnant."

"Yeah, the timing isn't that great," Emma agreed. "You'll be ok, though. Did you guys talk about what to do about it?"

"You mean keep it, give it up, or abort it?" Alex asked. Emma nodded. "Yeah, we kind of fought about that right before I left. I just don't think we're ready, but she does, and I guess that's why I've been so fucking terrible tonight." He finally glanced up at her. "Sorry, by the way. I didn't mean the things I said."

Emma shrugged, brushing it off. "I think you got to Dave most out of anyone. Steve even seemed to go with the flow. I mean, he got uncomfortable, but that was more out of him just being Steve than actually uncomfortable by anything you said."

"I like him," Alex said, his voice becoming more pleasant. "He's a cool dude."

"Yeah, he is pretty cool." Emma smiled. "He's a good guy."

"I can tell. You've hidden him from us for so long, and I guess now I see why. I think Mom's going to try to beg him to stay here forever." Alex smiled back at her, but Emma could tell that it was a forced smile.

"He tends to have that effect on people," she said. She reached out and patted Alex's shoulder. "You'll be ok. I'm serious. Whatever you and Laura decide, you'll be ok."

"Am I too old to be fucking around like this?" Alex asked suddenly. "I'm almost 30. Am I too old to be pulling this shit?"

"Maybe," Emma truthfully answered. "It depends on the person. You've just got to do what's right for both you and Laura. Honestly, I think you should be with Laura right now instead of here. You're probably a little too old to do the whole 'running away from your problems' thing."

Alex squinted his eyes at her. "But didn't you—"

"Yeah, yeah, ok, so maybe I don't always practice what I preach, but I'm 25. I'm still young." Emma grinned at him, and she leaned into him, knocking her shoulder against his playfully.

Alex sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I still fucking hate you. You're always right."

"Of course I am," she said. Alex gave her a rueful glance, but he put his hands on his knees and stood up. Once he was standing, he held his hand down to her, but she shook her head and brushed the gesture off. "I think I'm going to sit out here for a while longer. It's nice outside for this time of year."

"Ok," Alex said. "I'm going to go make amends, and then I'm going to follow what you say and not what you do."

"Very funny," Emma replied with a smirk. "Remember, though, I'm 25. Like I said, I'm still young, so I can still get away with it."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, kid." He ruffled the top of her hair and started to walk back to the door before turning around one last time. "Thanks, Emmy. I'll see you tomorrow most likely."

"See you, Alex." Emma smiled and waved at him as he turned back and entered the house. Sighing, she leaned back on her hands and readjusted herself so that her leg was more comfortable. So Laura was pregnant. It was a strange concept for her to wrap her head around because it just didn't seem right. In her head, Alex was still just her big cousin who teased her and gave her shit over guys. It didn't seem real to her that he was going to be a father if he and Laura decided to keep the baby.

The door opened behind her, and she turned, expecting Alex, but who she was instead made her smile wider.

"Hey, baby," she greeted as Steve quietly crossed towards her. She was never able to understand how he walked so silently for such a large guy. He was all bulky mass and muscles, and yet he probably walked more soundlessly than she did.

"You must've said something to him because he was very apologetic." Steve sat down beside her.

"I just gave it to him straight the way I always do," she said. "I told him he'd be ok, but he should be with Laura right now. Whatever they decide, they'll be ok. Sometimes he forgets that and loses his head."

"It's funny watching all the different personalities in this household and seeing how you fit in among them," Steve said thoughtfully.

"Yeah?" Emma asked. She propped her elbow up on her knee, and she rested her head against her hand.

"You're so calm, and everyone else isn't. Except for Dave. He's quiet, but I get the feeling that he wasn't given much of a choice, being the younger brother to Evan and Alex." Steve smiled as Emma nodded in agreement.

"They never really gave him a chance to speak when he was a kid because they were always talking back and forth, so he didn't get much of a choice. It was either be super outspoken or be super quiet, and he fit more into the quiet route." She looked out at the backyard, taking in the sights of the nature around her. Steve watched her watching everything, and he appreciated how the setting sunlight in the background played off her blonde hair and the contours of her defined face. Steve always thought Emma was beautiful, but as the sun set behind them, and her eyes became alive as she looked at the natural world around her, he was taken with how stunning she really was.

"You doing ok?" he asked quietly, almost afraid to speak and break her reverie. Calmly, she nodded, her face still soft and relaxed.

"Yeah," she said. "I thought I'd get a lot more upset over the whole car accident thing, but…I'm not, surprisingly. I think I kind of had a feeling that it wasn't an accident." She looked at him. "I'm more worried about how you'll get out of this. You _and _Grace."

"Just like you told Alex: you'll be ok," he replied. "I'll be ok, and Grace will be ok."

"It's nice to hear someone else say it," Emma murmured. She sighed and returned her gaze to the backyard again. "I can't believe Alex is going to be a dad. It's so weird. The past two years, I've gotten Christmas cards from my high school or college friends, even my elementary school friends, and some of them are married and having kids already. It's just weird."

"All my friends are dead," Steve deadpanned. Emma turned to look at him with huge eyes, the shock and panic evident on her face. He cracked a grin at her. "It's a joke."

"That's not a funny joke," she pointed out, but her mouth began twitching into a smile.

"You're so serious all the time," he said teasingly. Emma rolled her eyes in response and shook her head as if she didn't know what she was going to do with him.

"Yeah, that's me, alright. Serious. All the time," she said.

"But I can imagine that that'd be weird," Steve replied, getting back on task. "Kids are terrifying."

"Yeah, they are," Emma agreed. "Especially Alex with kids? When he was 12 and babysit the rest of us, there were at least three times that the fire department got called because he tried to cook."

"No fooling," Steve said. Emma nodded seriously.

"Not fooling at all."

"When I was 12, I was doing pretty ok for myself. I could cook on my own, and I was a fairly self-sufficient kid. Until I got sick, and then I couldn't do anything for myself." Steve's blue eyes became nostalgic, growing distant as his memories went far, far into the past to a time where Emma hadn't even existed. "I don't think I ever set the house on fire."

"Neither have I. Not even when I was in college," Emma agreed. Without making the conscious decision to, she leaned against Steve and rested her head on his shoulder. Steve wrapped his arm around her shoulders and rested his head on top of hers. "What do you miss most about your time, Steve?"

Steve was quiet for a few seconds as he thought. There were so many things that he could name: the patriotism that'd existed, the music, the simplicity of things, the cheap prices…he could name anything and everything. "That's a hard one."

"You can take your time," Emma said. Steve thought back to everything he'd experienced in the 27 years that he'd been alive in a time period that was now considered foreign. And then it came to him. Without a doubt, he now knew what he missed most of all.

"Bucky," he said. "It's probably stupid, but…"

"It's not stupid," Emma said as she looped one arm over his knee. "I've come to realize that people always mean more than things. As much as we'd like things to mean the most to us because things are generally more permanent, it's people that matter."

"He's been dead for so long." The sadness and confusion was evident in Steve's voice, and she pulled her head up to look at him. He gazed down at her with sad blue eyes, breaking her heart as he did so. She reached up and placed her hand on his face, tilting her head up for a quick kiss.

"I've said it once, and I'll say it again," she said softly. "You can never measure loss. You can never measure how much it hurts."

Steve had a flashback to when she'd first said that to him in the SHIELD hospital in New York. He remembered how he'd been unexplainably attracted to her, how he'd been so confused and lost, but she'd been there, the one real thing for him to cling to. She'd been taking care of him since then, and she always continued to amaze him day in and day out. He blinked, bringing himself back to 2014 and Emma, and he nodded.

"You're right," he said. She rested her head back on his shoulder, and they both quietly sat on the steps of the back porch. Sometimes they could talk and talk for hours on end, but other times they could sit in pure silence and not feel anything but comfortable. Sometimes silence spoke louder than any amount of words could, and as they sat in silence together with just each other and the trees and the grass and the birds, they used that silence to say much more than they ever could have otherwise.

Emma and Steve had experienced many growths in their relationship together over the past three years, and even though nothing all that significant had happened today, something had changed between them. Something had changed how they related to each other and connected, but that change was in the best way possible. As far as either of them was concerned, they were ok with it. In fact, they were more than ok with it.

They were ready for it.


	15. Return

**Shoutouts to MsRose91, thecruelworldwelivein, Lilybear3121, Jo, KD Skywalker, and LilyHiddleston96 for reviewing!**

**This chapter's a bit of a filler chapter. Not too exciting. It's also a bit shorter than my others, but this was the only good cut off point I could find without getting into the next chapter. Things will get to be more exciting next time =) Peggy is coming back, ladies and gentlemen!**

**Just as a heads up, there is some explicit smut in this chapter soooo...I hope you enjoy. Let me know if you like it, though hopefully we all enjoy the thought of some naked Steve Rogers ;)**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 15

The next day, Steve got a phone call. For someone who'd never used technology more advanced than a radio in his day, he sure did use it a lot in 2014, he thought to himself as he glanced down at his phone. It seemed like he'd been attached to the damn thing for the past two weeks, waiting for Grace to call, waiting for Emma to call, waiting to call someone else—though really, he only ever called Grace and Emma—waiting all the time for phone calls.

So when Steve looked down and found Natasha Romanoff's number calling him, he couldn't hide his confused frown. Sliding his thumb across the screen, he held it up to his ear.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Hello, Captain Rogers. This is Life Alert. We heard you'd fallen and couldn't get up. Help is on the way," Natasha said into the phone. Steve grinned, knowing that she couldn't see that he was actually amused by the joke.

"You're so funny, Natasha. Absolutely the funniest," he deadpanned. Natasha's easy laughter filled his ear.

"Thanks, Cap. I think I'm pretty funny, too. Speaking of funny, Fury wants you back here in D.C. He wants to start prepping for our first mission. And speaking of first missions, said first mission will most likely be in four days, but you didn't hear it from me," she said. Steve frowned.

"Natasha, I'm in Connecticut right now," he said.

"So get on a plane and come back to D.C.," Natasha replied, as if that were the easiest, most obvious thing in the world. "I heard Em's doing better, by the way. I'm sure you're happy having her back."

"Yeah, I am," Steve said, "which is why I can't come back to D.C. just yet. She hasn't even been cleared to fly. She's still on crutches. No dice."

"People on crutches can fly, Steve," Natasha answered. She was always so logical and one-track minded. He could picture her cool, steady gaze, completely unimpressed by anything he was saying to her.

"Natasha—"

"Your country needs you, Steve. Captain America needs to come through," Natasha prompted. He sighed into the phone, not even bothering to hide the exasperation he was feeling, and he rubbed his eyes with his hand.

"Ok," he said. "I'll see what I can do."

"'What you can do' better mean that you're on a plane back here in the next 24 hours. We have work to do, Rogers," Natasha said. Steve suppressed his sigh; Natasha Romanoff was nothing if not blunt, though it was in a completely different way than Grace was. He glanced at his watch. Emma and Lacey should be back from the doctor's any minute now, and he'd have to break it to them then. "I mean, if you want to tell Fury to go fuck himself—"

"No, no, no," Steve interrupted. "I'm not going to tell Fury—I'm coming back. I'm waiting for Emma to get home, and then we'll be on our way back."

"Sounds good, Cap. I look forward to rendezvousing with you," Natasha brightly chirped.

"Likewise," Steve replied. And just like that, the phone call was over. He hung up the phone and started to move upstairs to go pack things. He'd have the option of going with Emma to hear what the doctor had to say, but she'd told him he didn't have to go. Truthfully, he would've preferred to have gone, but the fact of the matter was that the both of them out in public would cause too much of a scene, and it would've been too difficult for them to have just gone on a simple doctor's visit to see how she was progressing.

One of the things that Steve didn't enjoy about being Captain America was the constant attention. He did have to say that for the most part, the citizens were pretty good about respecting his and Emma's privacy, and the ones who did approach were usually somewhat shy and quiet, careful of interrupting the couple's day that he didn't mind talking with them. But Jesus, the media was something that he didn't like at all.

Back in the 1940s, he hadn't been bombarded with reporters and photographers who crowded outside hospitals. He'd been able to walk down the street without feeling the need to pull the collar on his jacket up because it'd been a different time period. But now, in this day and age, whenever something big happened, he couldn't seem to escape the press. When Emma had been in a coma in the hospital, he'd had to fight through the crowds as they'd asked him for comments on her condition, any updates on the driver of the other car, etc. etc. It'd been a lot for him to handle, and he hadn't enjoyed it at all.

So when Emma had left to go to the hospital for a check up on her brain and her leg, he'd made the difficult decision to stay back at the Carroll-Gallagher house to keep the media off their trail. Steve heard the door downstairs open, and he glanced at the clock on his phone. It didn't sound like Lacey and Emma—he'd gotten used to the sound of Emma's crutches in the hall—but he wasn't expecting anyone else.

Immediately, Steve went into a defensive position. He wished that he had his shield, but he figured that if it were an intruder, he'd be able to take the person out with ease. Carefully, he crept to the doorway and listened down the hall. He could hear someone starting to walk up the stairs. Steve crossed into the hall, preparing to defend himself in an attack, when he saw the person reach the top of the stairs.

Dave's grey eyes widened when he saw Steve. "Hey, where's everyone?"

"Lacey and Em went to the hospital for Em's appointment," Steve replied, his body filling with relief as he saw that it was only Emma's younger cousin. His muscles relaxed out of their defensive position, and he dropped his arms to his sides.

"Shit, that's right," Dave said. "Dammit, I forgot Emma had that appointment today. I stopped by to drop this off for her. I borrowed it several months back but didn't tell her, and I just finished it."

He held out a book, and Steve took it, looking down at the title to see that he was holding _An American Tragedy _by Theodore Dreiser. He looked up in surprise towards the young man.

"I've read this," he said. "Em's read it, too?"

"Yeah, she loves the classics. Particularly Hemingway. Loves Hemingway," Dave replied. "She can talk for hours on hours about Hemingway, Scott Fitzgerald, Wharton…all of the modern American classics."

"It's funny," Steve remarked, "that she and I have read the same books, but there's quite a number of decades in between our birthdays."

"Stranger things have happened." Dave gave him a small smile. "It doesn't surprise me that she wound up with you, though. She's always been an old soul."

"An old soul," Steve repeated, liking the description. "That's true."

"Well, I'll let you go now. I just wanted to drop that off. I'll probably be over later with Evan. Not sure if Alex is coming since the whole baby news from last night." Dave smile changed into a wry grin as Steve gave a soft chuckle.

"Yeah, I wouldn't expect he'd be here," he said. "Actually, I just got a call from D.C. saying that I need to be back for training soon. I was going to talk to Emma about it later this evening. See if she wants to come with or stay here."

Dave laughed. "Oh, if she has her choice, she'll be going with you."

"Selfishly, I hope she does." Steve smiled back at the grey-eyed cousin who was most like Emma. "Thanks for everything you've done for us, Dave. For her. She's always spoken highly of everyone in the family, and now I see why."

Dave shrugged nonchalantly. "She's family. If anyone deserves a thanks, it's you."

Steve frowned, and he was about to ask what Dave was talking about when the young man waved with his good arm and descended down the stairs. Steve stood in place as he held the book in his hands. Out of everyone in the Carroll-Gallagher family, he knew Dave the least. Not that he felt he "knew" anyone in the family, but Dave had always been the quietest, the most self-contained. The past few minutes with Emma's younger cousin had really given him insight into the young man, and he found himself realizing that he'd gotten to know Dave more in those past few minutes than he had this entire visit. Outside, he heard the slam of car doors and female voices. His ears pricked up; looks like Emma wound up getting to see Dave, too, he thought to himself. Steve went back to the bedroom and set the book on the bed before throwing a few more of his things into his duffel bag.

The door downstairs opened and closed, and he walked out to look down from the top of the stairs. Emma was on her crutches, leaning into them as she tried to push her shoe off.

"Hey," he called from the top of the stairs. At the sound of his voice, Emma looked up and saw him. Flashing him a smile, she turned to face him a little more directly, her shoe still halfway on.

"Hey," she called back.

"How was your appointment?" Steve asked, beginning to descend the stairs. She shrugged.

"It was ok. Doc says everything is proceeding as expected. I'm not regressing, and that's good, and I'm slowly but surely getting better. Probably another week with this damn thing on, and then I can switch to one of those fancy boots." She grinned. "What have you been up to since we were gone?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that," Steve said. "I got a call from Natasha."

"Romanoff?" Emma asked and lifted her eyebrows. Steve knew that Emma wasn't the world's biggest Black Widow fan, and he couldn't really blame her. Natasha was standoffish with people she didn't trust, and she definitely didn't know Emma well enough to trust her. Hell, the only two people Natasha trusted were probably Clint Barton and Grace, and she'd only started trusting Grace back during the Battle of New York.

"Romanoff," he confirmed.

"What'd she want?" Emma asked. Steve opened his mouth to answer, but she arrived at her own conclusion, a look of realization passing over her clear, open face. "We have to go back, don't we?"

"Well, _I _do," Steve answered. "You can stay here if you want. Fury wants STRIKE to start training. Looks like we have a mission coming up."

"When do we leave?" Emma asked. Steve frowned at her.

"Honey, you can stay here," he said. "You don't have to come back. If you want more time with your fami—"

"I'm coming back with you," Emma interrupted. He looked into her grey-green eyes, searching for any hint of wanting to stay, but he couldn't find any.

"Are you sure?" he asked slowly. She shot him a look and nodded as she smirked at him.

"Of course," she said. "I'm coming back with you. Plain and simple. We're a team, Rogers. No man left behind."

"I won't be home much," Steve said. "And then I'll be gone for my mission, and I don't know how long that'll be."

Emma shrugged dismissively. "I'm a strong modern woman. I can get around just fine. If I need any extra help, or if I get too bored, I'll call Robin, and we can have a girls' night in."

"Ok. Only if you're sure," Steve said carefully. Emma smiled at him.

"Of course I'm sure."

He leaned down and kissed her and wondered how the hell he'd managed to snag this girl and make her his.

* * *

Emma managed not to get tearful as she exchanged her goodbyes with her family before she left. She promised them—this time fully meaning them—that she'd be back sooner than three years, and they'd have to come down and visit her and Steve in D.C. She loved her family, and she was so glad she'd gotten to spend time with them, but admittedly, she was ready to go home. She was ready to be back in her own bed in her own space of the world.

But as she crutched away from them, she left out a teary laugh.

"All this time I've been trying to avoid them, and now I feel sad leaving them," she said. She glanced up at Steve quickly. "I'm happier to be going home, but I'm going to miss them. They helped make me who I am, and it was nice to be able to see them again."

"You told them we'd be back for Thanksgiving, and that's right around the corner," Steve offered. Emma smirked.

"Thanksgiving's pretty far away. That's in November," she said.

"Everything's relative," Steve replied, but he kissed her lightly on the top of her head in hopes of making her feel better.

Getting through the airport on crutches was a fun challenge in and of itself, and Emma finally gave up her pride and let Steve push her in a wheelchair until they got to their gate. After that, going home felt like a rush. One second they were on the plane, next second they were ascending, next second they were back on the ground, and then they were in a taxi on their way home.

Before Emma knew it, they were back in their apartment, and she no longer felt so sad about leaving her aunt, uncle, and cousins. As she crutched to the bedroom she and Steve shared, she made a mental reminder to text or call Alex tomorrow to see how he was doing. He and Laura had shown up to quickly tell her goodbye, but both of them had seemed to be preoccupied with other things, though Emma couldn't blame them.

She gently placed her crutches against her nightstand and then tumbled into bed. Letting out a loud sigh, she rolled onto her back and stretched her arms out. Steve came into the room, and she lifted her head up to see him hauling his duffel bag over his shoulder and her small bag.

"Thanks for getting my stuff," she said. She held her hand out to point to her crutches. "I'm just a little incapacitated these days."

"Don't sweat it," Steve said, placing the bags in the corner where Emma wouldn't trip on them if she got up in the middle of the night to go somewhere with her crutches. "The small weight of your bag didn't feel like anything."

"Oh, yeah, just brag about how strong you are," Emma said with a smirk as she dropped her head back down onto her pillow. Suddenly, Steve was on top of her, his knees on either side of her hips to avoid hurting her leg any further, and he playfully pinned her arms down. Lifting her eyebrows, she grinned up at him. "What's this, Captain?"

"You said I was strong," Steve innocently replied.

"So that means you have to come pin me down?" she asked, trying to bite back her grin but failing.

"You definitely just challenged me to a wrestling match, and I can't resist a challenge." Steve sat back on his heels, careful of where he distributed his weight since she was so much smaller than he was. He looked down at her; even in the darkness of the room, he could catch her bright smile and her flushed cheeks. She laughed and dramatically struggled to get free.

"You win," she said.

"Oh, come on. You're not even trying." Steve leaned down and nuzzled his face against her neck, enjoying listening to her laughter as she squirmed beneath him.

"I'm not trying because I'm tired," Emma protested. Steve pulled back and raised his eyebrows at her in disbelief.

'I don't know, Miss Carroll," he said. "Those giggles sound pretty energetic to me. Are you fibbing?"

"I'm not fibbing," Emma replied, her laughs still coming strong. "Captain, I order you to let me go."

"That's 100% not fair," Steve protested, his blue eyes growing wide. "I always follow orders."

"Order still stands, Captain. I order you to let me go," she said. Sighing dramatically, Steve lifted his hands off of her arms and freed her. Emma loved seeing this side of the Super Soldier; he really had a great sense of humor and fun that the public didn't get to see, but she got to see it, and she valued each moment of it. Besides, it was good for them to have a few moments to themselves of just playing around and teasing each other. The past week had been so solemn and serious that it was a breath of fresh air to get that natural playfulness back between them.

Speaking of playfulness, Emma noticed that Steve was still on top of her, even if he wasn't pinning her down anymore. Lifting her hands to the button on his jeans, she deftly unbuttoned and unzipped them. He looked down at her with perplexed blue eyes, looking absolutely alarmed that she would do something like that. Smirking at him, she lowered her hands. They looked at each other in silence for a few seconds, listening to each other's breathing.

"I'm awaiting further orders," Steve finally said, his voice lower and huskier already. That was exactly the reaction that Emma had been wanting.

"Shirt off, Captain," she ordered firmly. Steve's lips twitched up into a smile; for a second, Emma thought he was going to argue with her, but he lifted his shirt up and over his head, tossing it onto the floor in a way that wasn't very characteristic of Steve Rogers.

"Ma'am?" he encouraged. She paused as she thought about what to do. He was clearly enjoying this as much as she was.

"As you were, Captain," she said. He tilted his head and frowned at her. He went to speak, but he didn't say anything, instead swinging one leg over her hips and moving behind her to spoon her. Instinctively, Emma turned on her side and snuggled in closer to him, pressing her hips back. She felt Steve still behind her, one hand moving to her hip to hold her in place. Then she felt his lips press against the back of her neck, and she held her breath, closing her eyes at the sensation of it. His lips were soft and warm, tender and sweet. Slowly, he moved his mouth a few centimeters down towards her shoulder and kissed her again.

"That feels good," she said quietly as his hand pushed her hair aside to get better access to her neck.

"Your leg's broken," he mumbled.

"It feels ok like this," she replied. Steve didn't answer, instead moving his lips to the back of her neck as his hand slide around the front to her abdomen to press her closer to him. Emma thought she would die if she didn't get out of her clothes fast enough; it'd been weeks since she and Steve had had sex, and she felt that deep, aching need for him building up inside her.

Steve pulled back just enough to slip his hand beneath her shirt to start to push it up. Taking her cue, Emma sat up to eagerly pull her shirt off, and she quickly leaned down to shove her sweatpants down her legs. Steve laughed softly behind her, and he kissed her shoulder blade as she began removing her underwear.

"What's so funny?" she asked breathlessly. She glanced over her shoulder to see his blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

"You," he answered, grinning. "I just love you."

"Good. Because I love you, too," she said as she returned his grin. "Now get those jeans off, soldier."

"Yes, ma'am," he eagerly replied, wasting no time. Usually, Steve liked to take his time with Emma. He loved having sex with her, and he loved savoring each moment in undressing her and getting her ramped up, but today he was feeding off of her own urgency. They'd gone through so much recently, and there had been times when he'd felt as though he'd never been farther apart from her. Tonight was long overdue.

He pushed his boxers down and tossed them to the floor before moving back behind Emma, lying down and undoing the clasp of her bra. With one easy, fluid motion, her bra was gone, and they were naked. He lined his body up with hers and closed his eyes at the feel of her warm, bare skin pressed to his front. She always felt so good to him, so soothing.

He moved one hand over her waist to cup her breast in his hand. He gently took hold of her, listening to her sigh. Her body completely relaxed against him, and because he didn't want to wait, he softly kissed her neck again, his tongue brushing over parts of her skin.

"Steve," she sighed out loud.

"I want you so bad, Em," he murmured into her hair. Instead of replying with words, however, she pressed her hips back into his. Steve let out a soft groan, and he moved one hand in between her back and his torso as he felt her. She was ready and waiting, and Steve knew she didn't want to wait any longer, so he carefully guided himself into her, slowly pushing inside until he was fully sheathed.

He closed his eyes as the pleasure began to set in. He moved his hand down from Emma's breast to her hip to steady her, and he began to move. Instantly, Emma let out a quiet gasp, and she arched her back into him, already changing the angle. Steve's breath caught in his throat, and he held himself still to get himself to steady out; since it'd been a while since they'd last had sex, he didn't want to come right here and now. He wanted her to fall apart first, though really, neither of them would probably last that long.

Once he felt he'd gained some control back over himself, he began to move again. Emma shivered as his lips made contact with her neck. She was getting an overwhelming mix of sensations from him—he was so hard and solid between her legs but unbearably gentle and tender with his lips on her neck. He had a careful, steady pace going, and she held her breath as his hand travelled back up from her hip to her breast.

He took hold of her breast and softly caressed it. She tilted her head back, sighing in pleasure, and he kissed the back of her neck. She could feel his mouth turning up into a smile against her skin at her reaction. He was picking up his pace, and she couldn't get enough of him moving inside her—she needed him; she needed _this_. He quietly groaned against her shoulder, his mouth open as the sound spilled out of him. Emma also couldn't get enough of the sounds he made. His mouth was close to her ear, and she could hear every quiet, gentle moan he allowed himself to make.

His hand moved back to her hip, and he began thrusting upwards into her. She knew he was trying to get her to her orgasm, and damn, if it was working. He was thrusting far inside, reaching that spot she needed, and she pushed her hips back to take him in farther. He let out a ragged, tight breath as he continued to stroke his hips in that same upward motion. Emma was losing herself, and she was ok with that. As she started to fall over the edge, Steve clasped her hand in his, and she collapsed against him, that electrifying sense of pleasure spreading out from between her legs so strongly that she was sure she'd died and gone to heaven.

As Emma's body tightened around him, Steve found his own release, and he tightened his hold on Emma's hand, coming hard inside her, completely losing himself in her as she lost herself in him. He could barely think of anything but her; there was only Emma, only this moment, only the feel of her body as it moved in front of him. He collapsed and fell with her, holding her all the while.

They lay side by side for a few moments without moving, simply breathing as they pulled themselves together. There was a light sheen of sweat covering Emma's body, and Steve lightly kissed the back of her arm, the salt of her skin imprinting on his tongue.

"God, I missed this," he murmured softly. Emma laughed in an exhausted manner, and she nodded her head in agreement.

"I really love you," she said out loud. He lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist, making Emma's heart melt even more. He could go from having sex with her, thrusting hard inside her, to sweet and tender, gently kissing the sensitive skin of her wrist. Carefully, he moved his hand back to the side of her hip, and he gently steadied her as he pulled out.

"I'll get your clothes," he said breathlessly.

"Thanks," she replied, watching as he pushed himself into a seated position on the edge of the bed. "You're too good to me."

"No, I'm not," Steve answered, glancing up at her before returning to searching for her clothes. "I'm not good enough to you."

"False," Emma said firmly. He smiled, but he didn't say anything. Piece by piece, he tossed her clothes back to her, and she clumsily wiggled her way back into them. She wondered if she'd looked as awkward removing them as she did when she put them back on, but she didn't dwell on the thoughts too long; she was too busy basking in her post-orgasm glory that she wasn't too concerned with thinking about anything else.

She knew she needed to go to the bathroom, but she lingered on the edge of the bed to watch as Steve kept gathering his clothes. She'd seen him naked thousands of times, but she could never get over how damn perfect he was. He had scars and scratches that kept him from being 100% perfect, but—as corny as it was—it was those things that made him perfect to her. He caught her steady gaze on him, and he lifted his eyes.

"What?" he asked, but he was smiling softly at her.

"You," she replied.

"What about me?" he asked.

"You're beautiful," she said simply. Steve shook his head, but he kept smiling at her.

"You're the beautiful one," he argued as he began to step into his boxers.

"Almost." Emma snatched up her crutches and clumsily made her way to the bathroom as Steve continued to get dressed. She heard him open the closet door, signifying that he was changing into more comfortable clothes for the night. Unfortunately, due to her cast, she was already in comfortable sweatpants since they were the only things that would fit over the obnoxious plaster lump that encased her leg from her foot up to her knee.

When she was done, she crutched her way back out and over to the bed. Steve was sitting on top of the covers, leaning back against the headboard of the bed, and he held his arm out for her when he saw her. She propped her crutches back in place, and she lay down on top of the bed with him, resting her head in his lap. Immediately, his fingers went to her blonde hair.

"When I got to the hospital, your aunt gave me your stuff back," he said. "You know, like your wallet and your cell phone."

"Yeah, I imagine that she would've," Emma answered. She tilted her head back to get a better look at his face. "Was something missing?"

"No," Steve quickly answered. "I checked to see if everything was still there, and I saw a picture of me in your wallet. Pre-Serum me."

"Yeah," Emma said, her tone as simple and matter of fact as if she were confirming that she did, indeed, live in Washington D.C.

"Why'd you choose that picture?" Steve asked curiously, still threading his fingers through her hair. Emma paused as she thought about how to answer. Closing her eyes, she kept her head level on his lap.

"I don't know," she said. "I just liked it. It was you before I knew you. Even though I know you as Steve Rogers, hero of America, you used to be that guy in the picture, and really, the only thing that's changed is your size. I don't know."

"Ok," Steve answered with a smile. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

"That was a bad answer," she said. He shook his head at her, his blond hair falling across his forehead in an adorable, floppy way that made Emma want to push it back into place if only just to touch his hair.

"No, it wasn't," he protested. "I like that you liked me before I was me. If that made any sense."

"Of course I liked you before you were you," Emma said, mimicking his sentence structure in a playful tone. "I would've liked you regardless of size."

And with that one sentence, Steve fell in love with Emma Carroll all over again.

* * *

When Emma woke up, she wasn't wrapped up in warmth. That only meant that she'd slept through Steve getting up and getting ready for his day at SHIELD. Blearily, she opened her eyes and rolled over to find that his spot was, as she'd predicted, empty. She closed her eyes and wished that it were the weekend so he could be there with her. She really wasn't the kind of woman who was lost without her boyfriend, but she'd gotten so used to waking up with him right there next to her over the past few days that she missed him when he wasn't there.

Sighing, she rolled over to face his empty side, and she opened her eyes again. As her eyes adjusted, she found a note in his place. Emma kept her arm under the covers to keep warm, but she reached out and took it in her hand.

**Em-**

**There are some cheese bagels in the microwave and supplies to make coffee right by the pot. If you need anything, give me a ring. I know you're a modern woman, but don't be afraid to ask for help! I'll be at SHIELD all day most likely, so I'm serious. If you need me, call me.**

**I love you.**

**-Steve**

The note was short and sweet and to the point the way Steve always kept his notes. Emma remembered back when he'd first started texting; at first, he'd felt the need to begin and end them formally until she'd told him to think of them as informal little notes that didn't need a heading or a signature at the end. Now, just to play around with her, he'd occasionally send her a formal text throughout the day that started "Dear Emma" and ended with a "Sincerely, Steve" at the end. As she read over the note again, she thought back to all of those little things about him that she loved.

Grinning, she pulled her phone off its charger by the nightstand, and she whipped out a quick text to him.

**Dear Steven-**

**I got your note this morning and loved it. Thank you for breakfast and coffee. It makes this gimp's life a lot easier. I'll call you if I need you. Don't break anything. I love you.**

**Sincerely,**

**Emma**

There was nothing like a little love note to get the day going.

* * *

Steve, on the other hand, was not having as great of a morning. Keeping his fall in a pure deadpan, he stared at Director Nick Fury as Fury started the debriefing. He glanced around him and saw his teammates seated next to him, dressed for sparring and training. His mind really wasn't in the present moment, even though he knew that was dangerous for the team to be distracted. So as a result, he forced himself to listen. Grace wasn't even there to fill him in on anything he missed.

Natasha's green eyes flicked over to him, and she lifted her eyebrows as she silently communicated to him that she saw he wasn't paying attention. He gave her a subtle shrug and then turned back to look up at Fury. He'd worked several missions with Natasha in the past year, and they'd gotten to be better friends. He still didn't trust her any more than he did back when he'd first met her, but he had a lot more respect for her. She was definitely good at what she did—her reputation as one of the best SHIELD agents was well-earned, and he respected her willingness to do anything and everything.

But then again, that was part of his problem with her; Natasha was willing to literally do anything and everything. However, that wasn't why he'd requested her to be a part of STRIKE. STRIKE wasn't a team that was designed to pull risky moves in order to get what they wanted—STRIKE was meant to counter terrorism, and Natasha was one of those who was brave enough and competent enough to do it well.

He sat still in his spot and listened to Fury talk for the next God knew how long. He wasn't paying attention to the clock because he was dying to get back sparring again. He'd sort of been neglecting his physical training for the past few weeks since all this with Emma had come up, and his muscles were aching to get back in shape. It was remarkable how pre-Serum Steve had only exercised whenever he'd been forced to, but now post-Serum Steve felt out of shape after a week without rigorous physical activity. Well, technically, he'd gotten some rigorous physical activity last night, but that wasn't exactly the same thing.

"Alright, you're dismissed," Fury said finally. Steve was out of his chair and out the door before the director could stop him and ask him any questions. He and the rest of the team moved down the hall towards one of the many training rooms. He was in track pants and a tight thermal shirt that Emma said made his muscles look like individual people had wrapped themselves around his biceps.

"Hey there, soldier," Natasha greeted. He glanced up as he pulled his water bottle out of his bag.

"Hey, Natasha," he greeted back.

"We going to spar today?" Natasha asked casually.

"You going to challenge me?" he retorted. A smile spread over Natasha's mouth, and she nodded as she slipped a hair band off her wrist and secured her shoulder-length red hair back into a ponytail.

"I wouldn't do anything but," she said. "How's Emma? She make it ok through the airport?"

"She's fine," Steve replied. "We're both happy to be home."

"I can imagine. How was meeting the in-laws?" Natasha smirked, and Steve rolled his eyes.

"They're not my in-laws," he protested good-naturedly. "But meeting them was fine. Even if it was under weird circumstances."

"Weird?" Natasha repeated, lifting her eyebrows curiously.

"Meeting your girlfriend's parents because she's in a coma after a car accident isn't exactly normal," Steve said. Natasha gave an offhand shrug and folded her arms across her chest as Steve tilted his head back and drank a few quick swallows from his water bottle.

"I wouldn't know what's normal," she said casually. "If you'd told me that that was the way you were supposed to meet parents, I would've believed it."

Steve smirked. "No, you wouldn't. You're smarter than that."

"Aw, thanks," Natasha droned with a smile. "Are you done? I'm getting cold, old man."

"You'll regret that old man comment," Steve replied as he set his water bottle down and started towards the mats where they'd begin their martial arts training. Steve had realized that martial arts were the new, up-to-date fighting style, and he'd been training hard to get back up to par.

"Will I?" Natasha drily asked.

"Yes," Steve answered. "You will."


	16. Time

**Shoutouts to MsRose91, thecruelworldwelivein, and LilyHiddleston96 for reviewing!**

**Uh oh...this was the least amount of reviews I've gotten on a chapter for this story, and that's got me worried! We went from having like, six to nine reviews per chapter to three! :/ I know that people get busy, but I just lost two followers on my _Supernatural _story, so I'm feeling extra paranoid haha**

**There are probably three or four more chapters left, I think. I have some last minute things I want to fit in to wrap everything up before starting my _Winter Soldier _portion.**

**Hopefully this chapter is better, and y'all like it more! Let me know!**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 16

"Is that all you've got?" Natasha lifted the bottom of her shirt and wiped the sweat off her face. "I mean, you're pretty good for a senior citizen, but—"

Steve launched his body at her, flipping himself in the air as she prepared herself to counter his attack. Natasha definitely challenged him. She blocked his blow and kicked, tilting her body down and angling her leg up as her foot collided with his jaw. He was only momentarily stunned, but he pulled himself together in a matter of seconds, ducking underneath her follow up kick. He wrapped his hands around her ankle and pulled her foot out from beneath her. However, Natasha was prepared, and she twisted her body into a flip and landed on her feet. She stepped forward and swung her right hand around to collide with his cheek, only to be stopped at the last second. Steve flipped her over his back and onto the ground. He was just about to smirk about how he'd won when he felt her knee collide with his groin.

Steve Rogers was a Super Soldier, but when he got knocked in the balls, he reacted the way any man would.

Letting out a sharp cry, he immediately released Natasha and rolled onto his back. "Dammit, Natasha!"

"You ok?" Natasha asked, sounding slightly winded but not regretful at all. Steve gritted his teeth together and opened his eyes, glowering fiercely at her in pain and anger. Her green eyes coolly regarded him, and she put her hands on her hips as she waited for him to reply.

"No!" Steve grunted.

"You've never been kicked in the balls before? I thought you got beat up a lot back before you were the star-spangled man with a plan," Natasha continued, as if Steve weren't lying on the floor in agonizing pain.

"Dammit," Steve hissed out again.

"You don't even say anything worse than 'dammit' after you've been kicked in the balls. I've got to say, Cap, I'm really impressed with you." Natasha knelt down beside Steve and examined him. "Otherwise, you look ok. That bruise from earlier cleared up pretty quickly."

"Not now, Natasha," Steve said. She held her hands up in surrender and backed up, sitting down on the mat and crossing her legs as she patiently waited. In Steve's head, all kinds of four letter words were running through in a never-ending stream as he felt nausea rise up in his stomach. _For the love of God, don't let me throw up right here in front of the entire team_, he begged to himself. This was the first team-building session that they'd ever had, and he felt that it wouldn't be very professional to vomit all over the place because Natasha Romanoff had kneed him in the balls. Slowly, he could feel the pain start to ebb away, draining from his center and retreating back inside his body. Frequently, he was thankful for the Serum since it healed him by regenerating his cells more quickly, and today was definitely a day that he was thankful for it. He turned his head to the side and saw Natasha sitting beside him just as cool and calm as ever.

"You ok?" she repeated her question from earlier.

"I think so," Steve replied. Wincing, he pushed himself into a seated position, feeling the sharp ache coming from his groin as the pain still lingered there. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"You asked for a challenge," Natasha answered, as if that were supposed to explain everything.

"That's a dirty move," Steve pointed out, breathing hard.

"I don't hesitate in playing dirty." Natasha lifted a hand and calmly smoothed her ponytail down. "If we'd been in a real fight, I would've won."

"Yeah, you would've," Steve admitted. He could admit when he'd been beaten. "But only because you were playing dirty."

"This time." Natasha smiled. "We've been at this for several hours now. I think we should initiate team lunch with everyone else."

"You? Wanting to do team bonding? I'm surprised," Steve answered in a dry tone. The corners of the Russian spy's mouth twitched up into a smirk, and she half-shrugged.

"So I'm a bit of a solo act. Shoot me," she said.

"You're definitely not a solo act," Steve argued. "Barton? Grace? You call those partnerships solo work?"

It didn't escape the Super Soldier's notice that at the mention of Clint's name, Natasha stiffened. Clint Barton had been given more time off than the other Avengers due to the hypnosis he'd been placed under at Loki's command. Steve didn't need to know Clint very well to know that being in that kind of state of mind had messed with the archer's head more than he ever would've let on to anyone. Steve couldn't help but feel lucky that Loki hadn't done anything to him, thank God. Loki had managed to get through to everyone except for him and Grace, but the Frost Giant had really gotten to Natasha and Clint, though, and from what Steve had heard through the grapevine, he'd been able to gather that Clint hadn't been holding together as well as they'd all been hoping.

"Might as well be," Natasha coolly replied. "So what do you say? Team lunch?"

"Yeah, sure," Steve said as he pushed himself to his feet. "I'm going to go give Em a quick call first."

"Missing your lady love already?" Natasha asked. Steve grinned at her, but he didn't say anything. "Normally I hate seeing couples so in love with each other they can't go more than a few hours without speaking, but for some reason, I can't find it in myself to hate you and Emma."

"Oh, look, Black Widow has feelings," Steve said. "Text me where you guys are headed, and I'll meet up with you."

"You'll probably be off the phone by the time everyone's ready to roll out." Natasha nodded with her head towards the boxing ring where two agents were sparring each other. "When these two get going, it can take a while for them to relax, and they _just _started this round."

"Perfect timing," Steve said. "I'll be over there in a second."

Natasha nodded and walked away to join the rest of the STRIKE team as they watched their teammates spar. Steve walked over to his bag, hoping that he wasn't walking any differently than he usually was, thanks to Natasha's kneeing him in the crotch, and he pulled his cell phone out. He saw that he had a text from Emma, and he read it, grinning as he skimmed over it. Pressing the screen on his phone, he hit the Call button and held his phone up to his ear. The phone rang several times, and then it clicked, signifying a connection.

"Hello?" Emma answered.

"Hey, it's me. How are you?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm good. I'm currently lying in bed with my leg elevated, and I'm marathoning _Pushing Daisies_," she said. "Thank you for the bagels and for setting out the coffee, by the way. Wasn't sure if you got my text."

"I just got it. You're welcome. How's your leg feeling?"

"More itchy than painful. I'm just ready to get the boot on it."

"I don't blame you. Hey, listen, I want to run something by you real quick," Steve said. He hoped he didn't sound as nervous as he felt; he knew that what he was about to suggest was going to be risky. Emma would either be ok with it, or she would get mad, and he wasn't sure which. Yes, they'd had a significant amount of bonding time together in Connecticut, and they'd talked about how they felt for each other, but now was the time to see how much of their talk carried through into every day life.

"Yeah?" Emma prompted. Steve took a breath, and then he dove in.

"I'd like to stop in and see Peggy really quickly this afternoon when I'm done with training," he said. "I wouldn't stay long. Just for a little while."

Emma was quiet on the other line. He couldn't even hear her breathing. And then she spoke. "Ok."

This was a very vague answer, Steve thought to himself. An "ok" from Emma could either mean, "Ok, but I wish you wouldn't, and I'm mad at you for even suggesting that," or it could mean, "Ok, that's fine by me." Her tone didn't give much away either, and so he was at a loss.

"Are you fine with it? Because if you're not, I won't," he said quickly.

"Baby, I'm fine with it," Emma answered. "We talked about all of this. Need I remind her?"

Steve smiled at the teasing hint of her voice. "No, I remember. Well, I just wanted to check in with you and see if you were ok with it first."

"I appreciate that you did that for me. You're far too good for me, Steve Rogers," Emma said with a dramatic sigh.

"No way," Steve answered. "Alright. I've got to get back to training. I think we're going to do a team lunch, then maybe another hour or so of training, and then I'll be done. What do you want for dinner tonight?"

"Are you cooking?"

"Yeah, I thought I'd cook."

"Steve, you don't have to cook. I know you're tired after a long day of working hard being Captain America. Why don't you pick up some stuff at that Moroccan place?"

"Moroccan. Got it." Steve made a mental note so he wouldn't forget. "Want anything in particular?"

"Surprise me. You know I like anything."

"Yes, I do know that. Alright, I'll let you go now."

"Be safe. Play nice. Make smart decisions. I love you!" she said cheerfully into the phone.

"Yeah, yeah, same goes for you. I love you, too." Steve hung the phone up and put it back in his bag. Behind him, he could still hear the sparring match going on, so he knew that team lunch would be a few more minutes away. As he straightened up and crossed towards his brand new teammates, he looked around at all of them.

He'd always considered himself a team player. Even back before he'd been injected, he'd always felt more comfortable working in a group of people than by himself. With a group, you had people to back you up in case something fell through. It was a bit of a corny sentiment, especially considering the day and age that he was now living in, a time where independence was valued, and dependence was scoffed at.

Working with a team just felt natural to him. First, he'd been part of a chorus—that hadn't been the most fun part of his life, and he wasn't afraid to admit it—then he'd been a part of the Howling Commandos, and right after he'd woken up from the ice, he'd been a part of the Avengers. Teamwork was as easy and simple to him as living and breathing. However, as he looked around at these new people he was supposed to rely on and support, he couldn't help wishing that he was back with his Howling Commandos.

He knew everyone on STRIKE, but he didn't know them _well_; he didn't trust them enough to have his back when he needed them, even though he knew that he'd be there in a heartbeat to have theirs. Ultimately, he knew he'd have to just trust that they'd come through for him. However, he also knew from experience that trusting someone to come through was like waiting for snow in July.

Steve seemed to be pretty good at waiting, so he resigned himself to the fact that he'd just have to wait and see.

* * *

"Yes. I'm fine, he's fine, we're both fine. My leg is even fine," Emma said into the phone. "I shall pass onto him how concerned you are for our well being."

"After the past few weeks, you can't blame me for being worried about you," Lacey replied drily. "Especially considering the fact that talking to you on the phone once a week was considered keeping in close contact with you."

"I am a new and improved woman, Aunt Lacey," Emma corrected. "But seriously, we're all fine. Steve's at SHIELD training, I'm in bed with a cup of coffee and the seasons of _Pushing Daisies _right at the tips of my fingers, and tonight, we're having Moroccan food."

"Moroccan? Steve likes Moroccan?"

"He didn't at first. Cultural food was a bit of a shock for him at first, and it took him a while to get used to the really unorthodox kinds, but now he likes it just fine. I think he's still on the fence about Thai. Loves Chinese and Mexican, though."

"Have you talked to Alex recently?" Lacey asked, completely changing the subject. Emma frowned.

"No, I haven't," she said. "I was planning on texting him later, though. Why? Is something up?"

"No, I'm just worried about him. I know he's stressed about everything going on with him and Laura," Lacey replied. "Can you imagine if they decide to have it? I'm going to be a grandma. God, I feel too young for that. Is that normal?"

"Yeah, I'm 25. Definitely the right person to be asking about being a grandparent," Emma said teasingly, grinning as she looked up at the ceiling, her head tilted back against her pillow. "I think it's only natural. Even though Alex is like, a full-fledged adult. He's not a kid anymore."

"Remember that Steve's older," Lacey pointed out. Emma's eyes widened.

"Aunt Lacey!" she exclaimed. "What are you even trying to say with that?"

"Absolutely nothing. Just that he's older than Alex, so if you—"

"Are you making another grandpa joke? Ew, that's so gross."

"They're funny!"

"Not when you guys make them!" Emma protested. "When you and everyone else makes jokes about it, I feel like you guys think I'm sleeping with a genuine 95 year old."

"Honey, he _is _genuinely 95 years old," Lacey argued. Emma rolled her eyes and sighed.

"He's only 30. On paper, he's 95, but in his soul, he's 30," she said diplomatically. Lacey laughed good-naturedly.

"You're so full of shit, Emmy. Whatever helps you sleep at night," she answered.

"Oh, hey," Emma said suddenly. "Remember how I told you that Steve went to go see Peggy Carter? The woman he'd kind of had a thing with back during the war?"

"Yeah, I do. Why? Something else happen?" Lacey asked.

"Yes and no," Emma replied. "He called about an hour ago and asked if I'd be ok if he went to go see her for a little while when he was done training."

"What'd you say?" Lacey curiously asked.

"Well…I said yes," Emma said. "Believe it or not, I'm surprisingly ok with it."

"Are you sure?" Lacey asked. "You were pretty upset about it when you told me the details."

"Yeah, I'm ok with it." Emma balanced the phone between her face and her shoulder as she leaned towards her nighstand to grab her mug of coffee. She put it to her lips and quickly took a few sips of it. "We had a good talk about it back when we were in Connecticut, and we got a lot of things cleared up."

"That's good. It's about time you talked about it," Lacey said. "Being open and honest is always the route to go."

"I figured that one out," Emma answered in a conceding tone. "But yeah, after we talked about it, I feel…surprisingly different about Peggy Carter. I mean, would I be ok if he went to see her every day? No. But I'm not upset if he goes to see her every once in a while."

"Good for you. You don't have anything to worry about when it comes to him. Never did. He looks at you like you're his entire world, sweetheart. I'm glad you found someone who loves you the way he does." Lacey sighed contentedly. "I'm just happy for the two of you."

"Thanks," Emma replied, smiling. "He's a good one."

"That he is. Well, hey, I'll let you go. Let me know if you hear from Alex, ok?"

"Will do. Same for you. If you hear anything from him, shoot me a text or something."

"Got it. I'll talk to you soon Love you."

"Love you, too." Emma hung up the phone and quickly whipped out a short text to her oldest cousin. He was still at work, and he wasn't terribly quick about responding whenever he was at work, but at least she'd texted him while it was on her mind. The best way to deal with Alex was to act like the problem wasn't there, and then he'd eventually come around, but this time, the problem was too big for anyone in the family to really ignore the way they usually did.

She sighed as she finished sending the message. Alex was going to be a dad. She kept trying to picture him with a baby, but every time she did, she got flashbacks to him babysitting her, Evan, and Dave when they were younger and all the times the fire department had been called because of his mess ups. Even now as an adult, Alex wasn't exactly the most responsible person. That being said, he was loyal and true and a thousand other great things, but responsible was definitely not a quality that Emma immediately associated with him.

Emma had had a pregnancy scare once. It'd been a very minor one, nowhere near big enough to dwell on or stress out over, but it'd happened. Steve had been away on his first mission since the Battle of New York, and she'd been a little late on her period. Naturally, she'd been nervous and worried over it, but after 24 hours had passed, she was back on track and good to go. It'd been such a minor scare that she hadn't even mentioned it to Steve when he'd come back from his mission, bruised and tired.

It was impossible to date someone for three years and to _not _have a pregnancy scare, Emma felt. She and Steve were always very careful when it came to sex; Emma was on the birth control shot, and she never slacked around with pushing the date for when she needed a new shot. Since Steve had enhanced everything thanks to his Serum, it only made sense that his sperm were enhanced, too, and so they took extra precautions to make sure that nothing like an unexpected baby showed up. If they weren't ready for marriage, then they most certainly weren't ready for a baby.

Emma had no doubt in her mind that she would spend the rest of her life with Steve—she wanted nothing more than that. Whenever she pictured the life ahead of her, she pictured it with Steven Grant Rogers, and to her, that was the perfect image to have of her future. She figured that at some point they _would _get married, and then they'd have kids, but they'd just cross those bridges when they came to them. Unlike a lot of her friends, Emma didn't feel the need to rush and start a family right away. She and Steve still had a lot of things that they needed to sort out individually and then together before they did anything crazy like that; however, just the thought of knowing that she felt secure in her future was a comfort to her. Steve was it for her. He'd told her back in Connecticut that she was his future, and she believed him because she couldn't imagine hers without him in it.

* * *

Steve held his breath as he lifted his fist and gently knocked on the doorframe. Peering in, he caught sight of Peggy Carter lying in her bed, and he smiled at her.

"You're late," Peggy said out loud, repeating words that he'd once said to her so many decades ago. Steve grinned wider, and he crossed farther into her room.

"I know," he said. "I have a lot of apologies to make."

"Oh, don't bother," Peggy said dismissively. "I keep up with the news, Steve. I heard about Emma and didn't think twice when you didn't come back the next day. She's all right now?"

"Yes, she's doing much better," Steve replied. "How are you?"

"The same. You know, at first I hated being here because I couldn't do anything, but then I realized that there's a certain kind of beauty to not having any responsibilities," she said and gazed out the window, her dark eyes taking in the sights of the city. "Getting old can actually be a gift, Steve."

"I still have a few more years to go, I think," Steve said. Peggy laughed softly.

"Look at you rubbing it in. You're such a prat," she replied.

"Ice is the secret. If you wanted to know how I manage to keep my youthful glow." Steve smirked as she laughed again. Whenever she laughed, the sound of it took him back to the 1940s, back to when they were both young and disillusioned by the state of the world.

"That's probably not supposed to be funny," Peggy pointed out.

"It probably isn't," Steve agreed. "I get a lot of ice jokes these days. I think I'm warming up to them."

"Oh, God, don't you dare start in on the puns. I can't handle puns," she said. Her dark eyes turned back to him, and they studied his face intently. "Where was this side of you back then, Steve? It's nice to see you with a real sense of humor."

"Excuse you," Steve said with a snort. "I always had a sense of humor."

"Not quite like this," Peggy argued. "I'm guessing the 21st century gave you a better sense of humor."

"There was nothing wrong with my original sense of humor," Steve protested with wide blue eyes. "I guess these are just less stressful times. We're not in a war zone right now. It's a bit difficult to laugh when you've got bullets flying at you."

"Mmm. Touche," Peggy agreed.

"Peggy, I came here to ask you something," Steve said suddenly. She lifted her eyebrows at him, her expression curious, and she nodded.

"Go on," she prompted.

"If it's all right by you, and if it's all right by Emma, I'd like you to meet her," he slowly said. Immediately, Peggy's face spread into a smile, and she nodded again, this time quicker and more excitedly.

"Oh, Steve, of course," she said. "I would absolutely love to meet her."

"Really?" Steve's face lit up with a mixture of surprise and happiness; he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting from Peggy when he'd asked her. He certainly hadn't expected her to flat out deny him, but he hadn't expected such a positive and, well, excited response. And yet, there she was beaming at him and looking overjoyed by the suggestion.

"Oh, yes, I really would," she replied. "She's an important part of your life." She glanced at Steve's clothes. "Besides, she has excellent dress sense, and I'd love to be able to tell her that myself."

Steve softly chuckled, and he shook his head. "Perfect. Excellent. And I really didn't dress that bad before she started helping me."

"For 1945, you didn't have bad dress sense. For the 21st century, you were dressing like you belong in here." Peggy beamed at him as he half-shrugged in agreement.

"It was the pants," he said lamely. "Mainly the pants since men today don't wear them up as high."

"Have you gone dancing yet?" Peggy asked suddenly. Curiously, Steve shook his head. "I was just wondering if you've seen the way the kids these days dance. We _never _would have gotten away with it back in our day."

"Oh, yeah, yeah! What's it called again? Grinding? Grinding." Steve nodded. "Definitely very different than the kinds of dances we had back then."

"My daughter stopped by earlier to show me pictures of her son at prom, and it just got me thinking about how times are different. Grinding. With that and alien invasions happening, it's no wonder the world's in the state it's in," she joked. Suddenly, she frowned. "Wait, why are you here? Don't you have a girl at home with a broken leg? You should be there with her."

"I know. I wasn't going to stay long because I promised to pick up dinner on the way home, but I wanted to ask if you wanted to meet Em—"

"Well, you got my answer, so get back to her. All these years later, and—"

"—I still don't know anything about women," Steve completed. Peggy laughed and nodded.

"You're a good man, Steve," she said. "Now go be a good man to that girl of yours. And don't come back here if she isn't with you."

"Got it," Steve said. Slowly, he stood up and put his hand on hers, quickly squeezing it. "I'll see you, Peggy."

"See you, Steve," Peggy softly replied, her brown eyes searching up into Steve's face. A flicker of emotion passed over her face, but she smiled before Steve had time to wonder if he'd even seen that little lapse. He smiled back at her and released her hand, turning towards the door and walking out of the room and into the hall.

He knew exactly what that look on Peggy's face had been—it'd been the realization of knowing you were older than you'd thought, knowing that the world was moving faster than you could keep up with it. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Peggy to look up and see his face, completely unchanged and frozen in time. She was here in this nursing home, unable to live on her own, and here he was basically the same man that he'd been all those years ago.

The world was definitely moving faster than he could keep up with, but he'd learned a long time ago that he had to accept it and try to catch up, or fall behind and stay there.

* * *

When Steve unlocked the door to his apartment, he set the food down on the counter in the kitchen, and then he went straight to the bedroom. His eyes landed on Emma, her leg propped up and her hair slightly damp from a shower she'd taken several hours ago.

"Hey, the food sme—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Steve had scooped her up into his arms and started carrying her out to the kitchen.

"Dammit, Steve!" she exclaimed, squirming and giggling all at the same time.

"Stop squirming. I'll drop you," he deadpanned, even though they both knew that there wasn't a chance of him dropping her at all. He crossed into the kitchen and set her down gently on her usual stool. "I got us both Ferakh Maamer. I remember I had some of yours last time and liked it."

"Perfect. It smells delicious," Emma said, watching delightedly as Steve started to unload the plastic bag full of food beside her. He leaned over and quickly nuzzled the side of her hair.

"Yes, you do," he answered happily. Emma gazed up at him with suspicious eyes, a smile ghosting across her lips. For the most part, Steve was a typically happy person, but today, he was in an extra good mood, and it made her slightly suspicious.

"What'd you do?" she asked. Steve scoffed.

"Why do you always think I did something?" he asked. "Can't I just be in a good mood?"

"Oh, no, I love your good moods, but you had training today, and usually, you come home tired after training," she said. "Was today like, an extra good session or something?"

"It was ok," Steve replied. He paused, looking up as he remembered something. "Natasha kneed me right in the groin, though. That wasn't good at all."

"Shit." Emma winced in sympathy. "Thank God you bounce back quickly, right?"

"Yeah, I'd call that a plus." Steve set her food in front of her and crossed to the other side of the island to sit down on his stool. "Your leg doing ok? Need any pain meds while I'm still up?"

"No, I'm ok. I took one like, three hours ago, and I can't have another for three more hours," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. Inside, she was dying to ask about his visit with Peggy—in all honesty, that was probably why he was in such a damn good mood, but she was afraid that by bringing it up, it'd put the both of them in a bad mood. However, sitting there and worrying about it would only bring the dinner down, so she decided to just go for the plunge. "How was visiting Peggy?"

"It was fine," Steve replied in an easy, relaxed tone. "Actually, you know, I wanted to talk to you about this."

_Oh, shit_, Emma thought. Mentally, she prepared herself for what Steve was about to say, and she nodded, showing that she was ready.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"So I think we both see eye to eye on the whole future thing. You're it for me, Em. I love you. I don't want to live without you. And I think it's safe to say that our mutual worries about Peggy were an issue, right?" He lifted his blonde eyebrows and looked steadily at her. Emma diplomatically nodded, careful not to show too much apprehension towards what he was saying.

"Correct," she said.

"Exactly." Steve nodded. "So I was thinking about where we go from here. And I got this idea…you might think it's a terrible idea, and I understand if you don't want to, but all I ask is that you at least consider it."

Emma blinked. "Ok…"

"What would you think about going to meet Peggy?" he asked. His blue eyes were hopeful, and his entire body was tensed in anticipation of her answer. Emma had seen many sides of Steve in the past three years that they'd been together; she'd seen playful Steve, sexual Steve, stressed Steve, angry Steve, patriotic Steve, depressed Steve, haunted Steve, but she'd never seen child-like Steve. As she looked at his tense posture, she could easily picture how he must have looked as a little kid. Sure, he would've been a lot smaller—a _lot_ smaller—but she could see the excitement and the hopefulness in his eyes, that child-like wonder that gave away so much of what he would've looked like back then.

He kept staring at her with wide eyes, and as she got past seeing this new side of him she'd never experienced before, she considered what he was asking her. Peggy Carter was a complicated topic—that went without saying. Peggy represented a thousand things about Steve's past, but that was mainly what she was: his past. Emma no longer felt afraid that Steve would remember he'd wanted something else, something that hadn't included her in it, and strangely, she felt at peace with that. By introducing Peggy and Emma, he would be uniting his past and his present all in one, significant moment. He needed this in order to make that step towards his future, that step towards her.

"Ok," she said genuinely, and she smiled at him. Steve blinked, stunned.

"Seriously?" he asked.

"No fooling," Emma replied.

"You're really agreeing to this? If you want to take several days to think about it—"

"No, I'm serious," Emma interrupted. "I'm ok to meet her. I think it'd be good. For the both of us."

Steve stared at her in silence for a few seconds, and then he smiled one of his slow, bright smiles that lit up his entire face. Emma got to see him smile every day, but she loved his slow smiles the best because that was when he was happiest. He leaned forward and rested his elbows against the table, fork in hand.

"You are the most amazing woman in the world," he said. She leaned forward, careful not to bump her leg against the island, and she mirrored his stance.

"I don't try," she responded, her voice just as serious as his had been. Steve's mouth dropped open, and he started laughing as he shook his head and took his elbows off the counter.

"You're too much," he said. "You know, even arrogance looks gorgeous on you. How do you do it?"

"I learn from the best," Emma replied with a smirk. "Dude, we should totally listen to 'Star-Spangled Man with a Plan. Definitely feeling that one right now."

Steve winced, his fork halfway to his mouth with food on it. "Did you just call me dude? I still don't get that term. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't make sense. Why don't people just call each other what they are?"

Emma had called him dude on purpose because he always went off about how modern slang made no sense, but she suppressed her grin as he started in on it again. She took a large bite of her meal and looked up innocently at him. "Slang from your time doesn't make any sense, either."

"Sure it does," Steve argued. "What's a phrase that doesn't make sense?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the whole 'hey, sugar, are you rationed?' pick up line?" Emma asked, lifting her light brown eyebrows at him. "That doesn't make sense."

"Yeah, it does," Steve said. "Back during the 1940s—"

"—sugar was rationed, and calling a girl 'sugar' was a term of endearment, so asking her if she were rationed was asking a girl if she had a boyfriend," Emma finished smartly. "I mean, it makes sense with historical context, but I'm just saying that it _doesn't_. You guys thought you were being clever."

"The pick up lines they use now are terrible. What are you talking about?" Steve snorted uncharacteristically. "I've heard the worst pick up lines in the world. Most of them are derogatory towards women, and that's the worst part of all. In the '40s, we might have been corny when we thought we were being clever, but we didn't disrespect any dames."

"Mmm. You got me there," Emma admitted. She paused, a small smile on her face as she watched Steve eat his food. Sometimes it was hard for her to believe that the man in front of her had lived in a completely different time period. Typically, Steve was pretty on top of technology and slang and pop culture references, but she could tell that whenever he talked about his own time period, that was where he felt most comfortable. Steve Rogers was often called the man out of time, and she couldn't argue with the name—he _was _out of time. He had adjusted to the 21st by now, but there would still always be that tiny piece of him that was one step behind. And that was only one of the many things she loved about him.

"Steve?" she asked suddenly. She'd had a question that she'd wanted to ask him that day, but she just hadn't gotten the courage to ask him until now. If she didn't ask him now, she'd lose her nerve. He looked up at her from his food and paused as he noticed how uncharacteristically shy she looked. Emma wasn't the personality type who was out there the way that Grace Marks was, but she couldn't be considered shy or timid at all. But as he observed her from across the table, she looked shy and self-conscious.

"Yeah?" he asked, concern settling over his features.

"I'm sorry to bring this up again, but when my cast comes off—and that won't be for a while—would you want to go to the Smithsonian?" she asked. Steve took in a breath and slowly exhaled. He hadn't expected her to ask that question—hell, he hadn't even thought about the Smithsonian exhibit on him for a good two weeks now. In that museum were reminders of things he wouldn't be able to force out of his mind. Namely Bucky. There was a whole section on Bucky Barnes, the childhood best friend of Captain Steve Rogers, and even though Steve could think about Bucky and not feel an overwhelming sense of grief, he still missed his best friend. Going to the museum would mean having to face Bucky's memory head on.

But as he looked at Emma, he saw his life in front of him. He couldn't move on without fully letting go. And that meant letting go of everything.

"Yeah," he said finally. "I'd love to go with you."

"You would?" Emma asked, her sea-colored eyes lightening with surprise. Silently, he nodded, a tiny smile on his face.

"Yeah," he softly replied. "We can go."

Emma leaned her wrist against the edge of the table as she stared at him, her eyes scanning over every feature, every detail of his face. She wanted to remember him exactly how he was in that moment, his face soft and open, completely relaxed towards her. "I love you, Steven Grant Rogers."

"I love you, too, Emma Lane Carroll. Past, present, and future."

* * *

Later that night, Emma and Steve put in a movie to watch that night. Steve seemed to really enjoy light, silly movies, particularly after physically exhausting days, so she'd put in _The Proposal _with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds. They were able to get through 75% of the movie without being interrupted.

Emma felt her cell phone buzz, and she looked down at it. "Hey, can we pause it real quick? It's Alex."

"I'm on it," Steve said, starting to feel around for the remote both over and under the blanket they were both snuggling under. Emma sat up and pressed the phone to her ear, hoping for good news.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Hey, Em. Sorry I didn't answer your text earlier. Work was a little crazy today," Alex replied. He didn't sound his usual, lighthearted self, and Emma closed her eyes, dreading what he was calling to tell her. She leaned back into the couch and tilted her head up towards the ceiling. To her left, she heard the clatter of plastic as Steve dropped the remote on the floor.

"No, you're good. Don't worry about it. I was just wanting to check in with you and see how you and Laura were doing," Emma said as she made sure to keep her tone light and pleasant.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, uh, we've been doing a lot of, uh, talking about what we're going to do. You know…I said I didn't think it was the right time, but she did, and…so we've been talking," Alex said.

"Yeah?" Emma prompted. She knew it was better to let Alex take his time in coming out with the reveal than to just straight out ask him. He had to get it out in his own Alex way.

"Well, we've done a _lot _of talking since it's…it's not really, uh, an easy, every day topic. I mean, it's not like we're talking about a car or anything like that," Alex continued.

"Right. Definitely not a car," Emma supportively answered. She opened her eyes and glanced over at Steve, who was staring intently at her as he tried to figure out what Alex was saying on the other line. She gave a noncommittal shrug to communicate that Alex hadn't revealed anything.

"And I also thought a lot about what you said about me being too old to fuck around like this," Alex said.

"I didn't say you were too old for it, I said that you probably were, but you should just do what was right for both you and Laura," Emma corrected.

"Basically, all you did was just repeat what I just said," Alex deadpanned. Emma rolled her eyes and sighed impatiently.

"Ok, sure, what you said," she agreed, eager to just get to the damn point already. That was the thing about Alex—he took a crazy long time to get to the point. Dave was a man of few words and liked to just say what the topic was, and Evan was kind of an in between mix of both Alex and Dave. Over the years, Emma had learned to be patient when it came to waiting for Alex to say what he really meant, and she resigned herself to waiting.

"Anyway, I was just thinking a lot about it, and I decided that I'm too old to be doing shit like this. I'm sitting in my car, by the way," Alex said, completely changing the topic. "I'm sitting in my car in the parking garage for my building."

"Why aren't you home yet?" Emma asked.

"Well, that's why I wanted to call you." Alex's voice was tinged with irritation, as if Emma should've already known that that was why he was calling her.

"Oh, excuse me. Sorry for not reading your mind," Emma droned with another eye roll. Steve snickered beside her, and she shot him a bored look.

"When I get home, I'm going to ask Laura to marry me, and I'm going to tell her that I'm in. I'm jumping in headfirst. Go hard, or go home," Alex said, his sentences rushing out so fast that Emma almost missed them. She sat up quickly, and her eyes grew huge as she processed what he'd just said.

"You're going to ask her to marry you?" she asked excitedly into the phone.

"Yep. I just wanted to tell you. I already called Dave and Evan, and they're basically just kind of like, oh, cool, so I wanted to call you. I'm doing it, Em. I'm going for it," Alex said. Emma let out a sigh of relief, and she turned to look at Steve, barely able to contain her excitement.

"Alex, that's great. I'm so happy for you. Let me know how it goes, ok? I can't believe it. That's seriously amazing," she said. "Now you're sure this is what you want?"

"Yeah. Oh, yeah. I just needed an extra little push to stop being an asshole," he replied easily. Emma laughed.

"You'll always be an asshole," she said.

"Ha ha, fuck you, Em. Ok, well, I'm going to hang up, so I can go propose to her. Ok. I'll call you or text you or whatever."

"Ok. Sounds good. I'm so excited."

"Talk to you later.

"Yeah, talk to you soon," Emma said. She pulled the phone away from her face and turned to look at Steve. "He's asking Laura to marry him because he's decided that he wants to keep the baby. He also said that he's ready to grow up. He didn't say that in so many words, but that was basically it."

"Oh, perfect, we'll get to go back for the wedding," Steve said enthusiastically. "That's great that he came around. I knew he would. He's a good guy."

"You think everyone's good," Emma replied as she settled back down beneath the blanket, snuggling in against Steve's hard, muscled body. She rested her head back on his shoulder and closed her eyes briefly as Steve pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Because everyone has that capability," he said.

"Ok, Captain America," she teased. "There's so much righteousness in this room right now that I can hardly breathe."

"You're not funny."

"I'm hilarious."

"Only sometimes."

"Where's the remote? We can start the movie again."

"Well…about that…"

"What about it?"

"I kind of dropped it when you were on the phone, and it broke. I think it's still usable, but there's a whole piece of plastic that cracked." Steve held up the remote, and she saw that there was, indeed, a crack in the side of it. She gave him an impressed nod.

"Huh. You usually break the doorknobs or the cabinet handles. This one's a first," she said. "Well, as long as we can still use it."

"We should be able to." Steve pointed the remote towards the TV and pressed play. Emma leaned back against him, and they settled in for their night together. So Alex was asking Laura to marry him. Steve hadn't been around Laura too much, but she'd seemed very sweet, the kind of person who would be able to balance out Alex's sometimes overly enthusiastic personality.

He would've been lying if he said that he hadn't thought about marrying Emma. He had. Plenty of times. Especially in these last few months. He knew she was the one, and it was only a matter of time before they reached that point in their lives. Right now, though, it was an unspoken, mutually agreed upon fact that now wasn't the right time. He was still working for SHIELD, and she was always at the hospital, and it just wasn't a convenient time.

He knew that that time _would _come, but until that day arrived, this right here with Emma snuggled up against him and a silly movie playing on the television in their apartment as they rested on their couch together, this right here was enough. It was more than enough.


	17. Loss

**Shoutouts to thecruelworldwelivein, Lilybear3121, Jo, AshleyMarie2010, stuffoflegends, RedRoses5, and LilyHiddleston96 for ****reviewing!**

**Yay, nice to see y'all back again! I was just feeling extra paranoid about the lack of reviews since I lost that follower on my other story haha =) This story's almost at 70 followers! Wow, I can't believe that.**

**This chapter's a bit shorter than usual, but next chapter should be the Smithsonian chapter =) I'm also going to write the dancing chapter that's mentioned later in this one. You'll know what I mean when you read it haha in tonight's installment, we get to see a bit more of what Emma missed while she was in Connecticut and how she deals with that. But first, we open up with Emma and Peggy meeting.**

**Welcome back to Peggy Carter and Robin! I really hope I did Peggy's character justice because I do like her and don't want to make her the antagonist or unbelievable.**

**Enter: Kate**

**At the end, I included another little _Captain America: The Winter Soldier _preview, so definitely feel free to tell me how you like it!**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 17

"Are you ready?" Steve glanced down at Emma and saw her nervously fidgeting with her hair. As he watched her tuck it back behind her ear, he remembered how she'd looked when he'd first met her. Her blonde hair had been at a complicated length, too short to effectively pull back into a ponytail but too long to just let stay down. She'd always been messing with her hair—touching it, smoothing it down, pinning it back, so on and so forth. She'd let her hair grow out since then, and now it fell to right between her shoulder blades. Throughout the week, she kept it pulled back in a ponytail, but since she wasn't working—problems of having a broken leg, Emma would bitterly remark—she almost always wore her hair down.

"Yeah," she replied, though it was obvious that she wasn't. Steve gently took her arm and turned her to face him, lightly placing his hands on either side of her face.

"Don't be nervous," he said. "Truth be told, I'm more nervous about the two of you ganging up on me than anything."

Emma smiled faintly up at him and lifted one hand to gently brush over his wrist. "Ok. Ok, I'm good. I'm ready. I've got this. If I can survive being on the battlefield of the Battle of New York, then I can meet your ex-girlfriend."

"She's not my ex-girlfriend, and you know it." Steve smirked at her, and finally, she grinned back at him. He slid his hand down to hers and laced their fingers together as he slowly began walking again. Emma had been in a walking boot cast for a few days now, and even though she was much faster now than she had been on crutches, she still wasn't as quick as she usually was.

Emma's mouth was dry as she walked with Steve towards Peggy Carter's room. She wasn't sure what to expect—Steve had told her that Peggy was sassy and honest, and she wasn't sure what exactly that meant. Sassy and honest could mean one of those people who always pointed out your flaws whether you asked them to or not, or sassy and honest could mean someone who just didn't take shit and said what was on her mind.

Steve slowed as they approached a room, and he looked back at her to check in with her. She smiled at him, and he gave her a quick wink before knocking on the doorframe and walking through. He still held her a hand, a quiet reminder that he was there with her, that he was hers, and he wasn't letting her go. Emma crossed into the room, and that was when she saw Peggy Carter.

Peggy's face spread into a smile as soon as she saw the two. "You must be Emma Carroll."

"Yes, I am. You must be Peggy Carter," Emma replied, smiling in return. The older woman's smile was the exact smile that Emma had seen so often in pictures before but on a much younger face.

"Yes. I've heard so much about you. Steve says the best things. Everyone just loves you," Peggy said. "I was wondering when he would bring you around. You have no idea how happy I was when he asked if I would meet you."

"He's said so much about you, too," Emma said. Much to her surprise, she felt strangely at ease. She wasn't sweating as much, and her heart was pounding quite so loudly in her chest. Smiling, she crossed towards the chairs beside Peggy's bed and sat down, Steve on the other side of her.

"You've done more for Steve than you know," Peggy said in a matter of fact tone. "He was nothing like this back in our day." She turned her eyes towards Steve. "You were far more serious then than you are now."

"War zones have a tendency to have that effect," Steve answered with a smirk.

"The only time I every really saw you not quite so serious was with Bucky," Peggy mildly replied as fondness entered her tone. Emma gently squeezed Steve's hand without looking at him. "The two of you were always horsing around."

"Yeah, we were," Steve answered with a small, nostalgic smile.

"Steve told us about the time he thought fondue was a euphemism for sex," Emma added. Peggy burst out laughing, and she clapped her hands together in delight, throwing her head back as she laughed heartily.

"Oh, I completely forgot about that! Howard and I were so confused!" she exclaimed. Steve's smile spread wider, and he shook his head as he brought his hand up to his face. "After we dropped you off from the plane, we talked about it and couldn't figure out what the hell you were saying."

"Nice to know that you were thinking about that and not my safety," Steve replied, smirking. Peggy chuckled softly, her eyes gentle as she looked at him.

"We thought for sure you were a dead man." She looked at Emma and pointed at Steve. "Is he still impulsive the way he was?"

"Well, comparing how I know him now to what I've read about him back then, I'd say yes," Emma answered. She hid her smirk as she thought about the impromptu session she and Steve had had last night. She'd been cleaning up the dishes from dinner, and Steve had been starting the washing process when he'd jokingly sprayed water on her. She'd tried to get him back, but all that had happened was her ending up with water on her hair and Steve's lips pressed to hers, his hands frantically slipping her shirt over her head. He'd wound up making love to her against the kitchen counter like a cliché scene out of a cliché romance novel.

As she sat in Peggy's room, she could barely contain her grin at the memory. She glanced over at Steve and saw him looking innocent and very Captain America-esque as he purposefully avoided her gaze.

"Some things never change," he said diplomatically.

"Speaking of change, I wanted to tell you that you have excellent dress sense, Emma," Peggy said suddenly, her eyes lighting up at the sudden thought. "You've got him where he's no longer dressing like a senior citizen."

"Thank you," Emma happily replied. With each passing second, she was feeling more comfortable in the room with Peggy. One half of her even felt ashamed at having been so jealous; Peggy had a gentle comfortableness with Steve, but there was nothing beyond genuine fond memories lingering between them. "I just showed him some things that were considered in style now, and he basically took it from there."

"There was nothing wrong with the way I dressed," Steve droned. "So maybe my clothes were _slightly _outdated, but they were nice, respectable clothes."

"There _wasn't_ anything wrong with it," Emma agreed. "You're just more up to date on your wardrobe down. You looked perfectly fine then, and you look perfectly fine now."

"Say, Peggy," Steve said suddenly, slipping back into his familiar 1940s slang. "I was just telling Emma about your kids and your grandkids. What do they do again?"

"One daughter is a teacher, and my son's an engineer," Peggy replied with a proud look on her face. "They're splendid. My oldest granddaughter is about your age, Emma."

"Really?" Emma asked interestedly.

"Yes. The grandkids are a bit of a handful. I told Steve last time he was here about my grandson's prom and all that grinding that goes on. You didn't find any of that back in our dances during our time," Peggy replied.

"Yeah, you didn't," Steve agreed. Emma turned to look at him with lifted eyebrows.

"I thought you didn't dance," she said. Steve kept his gaze averted from both her and Peggy, choosing to look at the floor, and he shrugged noncommittally.

"Buck always dragged me along to them, but I never actually danced," he said in an odd tone. Emma frowned the tiniest bit, and she glanced over at Peggy, who didn't look at her. "Buck was the dancer between the two of us. He barely sat down whenever we went to one of those things."

"God, I remember," Peggy said, and her face melted back into that nostalgic look she'd had earlier. "He was so good, too. Such an excellent dancer. He was poetry in motion."

"You know, it was crazy how fast he could get a girl to say yes to dance with him," Steve said, and he softly chuckled. "It used to drive me nuts. All he'd have to do was give her a wink and go, 'Hey, sugar, wanna jitterbug?' and two seconds later, they'd be out there dancing."

"Not a day goes by where I don't think of him," Peggy said quietly. Emma looked over at Steve, seeing how his light blue eyes had gotten a little bit darker and a little bit quieter, and he nodded.

"Me too," he said. Emma felt slightly on the outside of the moment, but she was ok with it; this wasn't a moment she could share in, and it'd be wrong of her to try to be a part of it. So she did what she did best: she was there for Steve. She rubbed her thumb gently against the skin of his knuckles to let him know that she was there.

They'd had a rocky time with each other recently, but as bad as things had gotten between them, they'd been there for each other. That was how it was with them and how it would always be.

* * *

Before long, two hours had passed, and Emma was completely at ease being there with Peggy Carter. So when the time came that she and Steve decided that it was probably time for them to leave, she wished that they could stay longer. Steve walked over to Peggy and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. As he looked down into her face, she gave him a look that couldn't be miscommunicated. He looked back at Emma.

"Hey, Em," he said. "Can you go grab me a coffee?"

"Yeah, sure," she replied, giving him a curious look but turning and leaving. Steve turned back to look at Peggy, and he saw her looking up at him with a serious face.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "Thank you for letting me meet her. She's wonderful, Steve."

"Isn't she?" he asked with a soft smile. Peggy nodded.

"Don't make the same mistakes with her," she said firmly. "You keep her close to you. You keep her safe. The both of you. Do you hear me?"

Steve froze, and he nodded slowly as he tried to process what exactly she was saying. "Yes. I do."

"You're very lucky to have her. You got your second chance when they found you in that ice, so use that time wisely." Peggy's dark eyes searched into his blue eyes, and he found himself nodding again, a confused frown coming over his face.

"I will," he said. Peggy released her strong grasp on Steve's hand, and she let him go. Her face took on its normal placid look.

"Good," she said. She smirked at him. "The only way you could thing you could think of to get Emma to step out into the hall was to ask her to go get a cup of coffee? Steve, she's in a boot cast."

Steve's eyes went wide with realization. "I didn't even think."

"You still crack me up," Peggy chuckled.

"So you like her?" Steve asked. Peggy smiled brightly and nodded.

"I do. I really do. You should take her dancing," she pointedly suggested. Steve folded his arms over his chest and grinned.

"Actually, I was planning on surprising her with that when she gets her cast off," he said. "I was searching the Internet for something like that, and in a few weeks, I saw there's going to be a USO-style dance at some place downtown, and I thought I'd surprise her by taking her to it. She loves to dance."

"I can't express how happy I am for the two of you," Peggy said sincerely. "That sounds like the perfect date."

"I thought she'd like it. I'm not ready for any grinding stuff. Definitely not ready," Steve said, wincing as he did so. Peggy laughed whole-heartedly.

"I don't blame you. One step at a time," she said. Emma showed up in the doorway with a cup of coffee in her hand and a puzzled look on her face as she glanced back and forth between Steve and Peggy.

"I come bearing gifts," she announced. Steve crossed towards her and slung his arm over her shoulder as he took the steaming cup from her.

"Thank you," he said. "Sorry I sent you all the way down the hall for it. I completely wasn't thinking about your leg, or I would've done it myself."

Emma scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I have a broken leg. I'm not mortally wounded. I think I can handle a walk down a hall."

"I knew I liked you," Peggy said.

"It was great meeting you," Emma said with a genuine smile. "I've heard so much about you, and it was wonderful to finally put a face to the name."

"Oh, likewise," Peggy replied. "Come back and see me. The both of you."

"We will," Steve answered. "Take care, Peggy."

"You, too." Peggy smiled and lifted a hand to wave goodbye to the two as they left. Emma sighed as she got out in the hall, and she wrapped her arm back around Steve's waist.

"You ok?" Steve asked, his voice concerned.

Emma nodded. "Yeah, I am. I really loved meeting her, Steve. I mean it. It was a good idea you had there."

"Really?" Steve asked in surprise.

"Yeah. It was good for me to meet her," she replied sincerely. "What'd she talk to you about after I left?"

Steve grinned. "I guess I'm way more transparent than I think I am.

"You're a terrible liar," Emma said as she laughed, walking down the hall arm and arm with the Super Soldier.

"She told me to keep you safe and to not waste time." Steve's voice was thoughtful as he repeated Peggy's words out loud. He'd visited her twice before this time with Emma, and she'd never been quite as serious as she had in that moment; he didn't know why she would tell him to keep Emma safe or why she'd looked so solemn as she had, but he didn't think to question her. Peggy had always proven herself to be right, and he knew he'd just have to do what she'd told him to, even though Emma's safety had always come first to him.

"That's sweet," Emma answered.

"She likes you a lot, or else she wouldn't have said that."

"Well, I like her, so I'm glad it's a two-way street." She leaned her head briefly against Steve's shoulder as they continued to exit the nursing home and make their way back to their own corner in the world.

* * *

"Seriously, I'm dying for the next two weeks to be over. You have no idea how much I've missed you at the hospital." Robin tucked her feet up under her on the couch as she sat across from Emma.

"You have no idea how much I've missed _being _there," Emma stressed. "Don't get me wrong—the first week of having some breathing time was nice, but I'm ready to get back to work. It feels weird not doing anything."

"When does Steve get back?" Robin asked. Emma glanced at the time on her phone.

"Mmm, anywhere between 2 in the afternoon to 10 at night. It depends on the day, really," she said. "Training days are usually on all day thing. Some days he doesn't even have to go in at all."

"I'm sure you've enjoyed getting to spend quality time with him," Robin replied optimistically. "How often is he gone on missions now that he'd part of that STRIKE team? Have you met them yet?"

"He's gone some of the time. It's weird. Sometimes he gets called in the middle of the night with no warning, and then other times he has like, a two day notice. I guess it's not any different than what he was doing before, but…" Emma's voice trailed off as she shrugged. "As for the team, I haven't met them yet. The only ones I know on it are Natasha and Grace."

Emma took a sip of her coffee and kept it tucked into her hands. As much as she loved Steve, she was glad to have some girl time with Robin. She hadn't seen her friend since right before she'd taken off to go to Connecticut, and since she'd been back, Robin had been working double shifts and hadn't been able to stop by to see her until now. Robin had come straight from her shift, though Emma never would've been able to guess since Robin was dressed in her street clothes and had her hair down. It was always funny to see nurses with their long hair down, Emma thought to herself. She was so used to seeing Robin with her long dark hair pulled back that Emma had had to take a double take when she'd first opened the door to see her friend standing there.

Before Robin could answer, a knock on the door startled the both of them. Emma frowned in confusion—there was no way it was Steve, and even if he'd locked himself out, he would've called her. She wasn't expecting anyone, either. In the back of her mind, she thought back to the car accident that'd left her with this damn broken leg. She remembered Grace escaping injury in her blown up car. Someone was clearly out to get them, and she had to admit that she'd been a little bit paranoid of danger since learning that her car accident hadn't been an accident at all.

She got up and crossed towards the door, peering out through the peephole at the front. A familiar face was outside, and she slowly felt relief seep into her bones as she unlocked the door and opened it up. The nurse from across the hall stood there with a smile on her face and a covered dish in her hands.

"Hi!" she said energetically. "Emma, right?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm Emma. And you're Kate?" she asked, hoping that she'd gotten her neighbor's name right. She briefly remembered meeting her when she and Steve had moved in a couple months ago, but they hadn't had many other encounters other than saying hi in the hall or on the elevator or anything. Kate nodded with a smile on her face.

"Yes, that's right!" she said. "I'm sorry I haven't been by sooner. I heard about the accident, and I've been wanting to check in on you, but I've been working nonstop at the hospital. Anyway, I just wanted to stop in and see how you were doing. I made a casserole." She held up the covered dish in her hands. "And it's not a gross casserole. At least, _I _don't think it's a gross casserole, and I hate casserole. It's got pasta and cheese in it, so I don't know how you can go wrong with that."

"Oh, my God, you didn't have to make anything!" Emma exclaimed as she took the offered dish. "Thank you so much. It sounds delicious."

Kate self-consciously shrugged, brushing it off casually. "No, I wanted to. Again, I'm sorry I couldn't get by sooner. It looks like you're almost all healed up, but better late than never, right?"

"Right." Emma smiled. "I appreciate so much." Pausing, she glanced over her shoulder towards Robin. "Do you want to come in? You're more than welcome to. One of my friends from work dropped by, and I'm sure you can relate to our conversation, being a nurse and everything."

"I'd love to, but I have to be at the hospital in 20," Kate said apologetically. "I'd love to another time, though."

"Oh, yeah, of course!" Emma warmly replied. "You'll have to come over sometime and have dinner with Steve and me."

"I think I'll have to take you up on it sometime," Kate said, grinning at Emma. "Take care. I hope you feel better!"

"Thank you. I will. Take care," Emma replied, and she smiled as the blonde woman turned and walked down the stairs. Glancing down at the casserole, Emma closed the door of her apartment and locked it behind her. She looked up at Robin triumphantly and raised the casserole. "Free food."

"Yeah, fuck you. Gimp privileges." Robin smirked.

"It comes in handy," Emma replied nonchalantly. She crossed towards the kitchen and set it in the fridge, reminding herself to text Steve and tell him that they had dinner for the night, so he wouldn't have to cook.

"So your neighbor's a nurse?" Robin called as Emma shut the door to the fridge and crossed back into the living room.

"Yeah, she is," Emma replied. "I think she said she works at Memorial, but I could be wrong. We talked about it back when Steve and I first moved in here, so I might be confused."

Robin glanced up with a frown on her face and tucked a piece of her dark hair behind her ear. "I swear I've seen her somewhere before."

"Really?" Emma asked mildly, sitting back down in her spot on the couch.

"Yeah," Robin answered. "She looks really familiar. I just don't know if I can place it. For some reason, I want to say I've seen her at the hospital."

"Well, she works at Memorial," Emma said, giving Robin an odd look. Robin shook her head firmly, her dark hair swinging past her shoulders.

"No, I mean _our _hospital. The SHIELD hospital," she clarified. "I don't know why I feel like I've seen her there before. Nurses from other hospitals rarely come in contact with us at SHIELD."

"That's weird," Emma said, and she mirrored Robin's frown.

Robin sighed and shrugged. "I don't know. I'm probably making it up, but I swear I've seen her. I think I'm just confused, though."

"Weird. Well, if you remember where you might've seen her, don't forget to tell me," Emma said. "So what else is new at the hospital?"

"Wait, did someone tell you about Agent Simmers?" Robin asked, snapping her fingers as the memory came back to her.

"Agent Robert Simmers?" Emma asked for clarification. Robin nodded. "No. No one told me anything about him. How is he? Has he been released yet?"

"Em, he died." Robin's voice was quiet and sympathetic. Emma paused, blinking in shock.

"Oh," she said faintly. "How did that happen? I thought he was doing better."

"He was," Robin agreed. "The infection was starting to go away, but probably a week after you'd been in Connecticut, it got to be too much for him, and he died."

"Oh." Emma picked up her coffee mug off the table beside the couch, and she clutched it tightly in her hands. She looked down at the creamy tan liquid so that Robin couldn't see how devastated she really felt. Her biggest flaw when it came to being a nurse was that she got too emotionally involved with her patients—she formed personal connections, and while that was good, it was also detrimental.

She'd lost patients before in the past, but it never got any easier. She thought back to all the talks she'd had with Agent Simmers. He'd told her about his life growing up on a farm, how he'd decided to join up with SHIELD to get off the farm…he'd told her so much about himself, and she'd thought that he was going to be ok. And then he'd died when she hadn't been there to tell him that he _was _going to be ok.

"Who was his nurse when he died?" she asked thickly, hoping that her voice wasn't betraying her.

"Carly," Robin softly replied. Emma smiled faintly at the mention of the cheerful, optimistic nurse who always knew how to make people feel better. She thought back to the last time she'd seen her and how Carly had been able to comfort her when she'd been feeling a little down.

_We're needed just as much as those Avengers are_.

Those were the last words of wisdom Carly had given her, and Emma thought them over and over to herself. When Agent Simmers had needed her there, she hadn't been because she'd been having a pity party up in Connecticut that'd nearly led to her getting killed. Emma knew that she was thinking irrationally—grief always made people irrational—but she couldn't help feeling personally responsible for Agent Simmers's death.

"I'm glad it was her," she said out loud. "She's so bubbly and happy. Probably just what he needed in his last moments."

"Oh, Em, you're doing that thing again," Robin said, sighing gently. Emma smiled, but she didn't look up from her coffee.

"I know," she said. "I know I'm too sensitive. All my professors and everyone I interned with said that I got too emotionally attached." She looked up finally and gave a small, wet-eyed shrug. "I guess that's my fatal flaw."

"Emma, you did everything you could for him. You're a good nurse, and you made sure he wasn't alone, he had someone to talk to…there's nothing you could've done about it even if you'd been here." Robin reached out and put a comforting hand on Emma's socked foot. Emma nodded and shrugged again.

"It still makes me feel like shit," she said. She cleared her throat and took a big gulp of her coffee as she willed herself not to cry. Suddenly, she wished that she were back at the New York SHIELD hospital with Felicia. Felicia had always done this thing whenever Emma had lost a patient where she hugged Emma and rested her head on the blonde nurse's shoulder, as if she were offering herself to Emma for Emma to heal and comfort to make up for how she felt she'd failed with her patient.

Emma hadn't kept in contact with Felicia as well as she would've liked—both of them led busy lives, and Emma wasn't exactly the best at staying in touch with people, she'd learned. She'd _especially _learned that since her visit back home to Connecticut. Robin leaned forward and gave her foot a gentle squeeze.

"Walk it off, Em," she said. "But not literally. Since your other leg's still kind of broken."

At that, Emma finally allowed herself to smile, and she gave a soft laugh. "Not for long. I'll be back before you know it. Two more weeks."

"And those two weeks can't come fast enough." Robin beamed brightly at Emma and ran a hand through her hair, brushing her bangs back. "I miss our lunches together."

"Me too," Emma replied as she tried to not focus on the loss of her patient. She blinked her eyes hard and looked down into her coffee again to re-center herself. Speaking of re-centering, she thought to herself, she realized that she couldn't wait to get back doing her Wednesday night yoga classes. That was probably what she'd missed most of all out of everything she'd been forced to sit out of.

"And I miss that boyfriend of yours showing up unexpectedly," Robin said, her voice gently teasing. "He sure does provide some gorgeous scenery."

"Oh, yeah, he does," Emma said. She glanced up, her lips pursed in a cheeky grin. "Especially in the shower."

"Ugh, fuck you!" Robin groaned. "It's just not fair. How the _hell _does he look like that? He's just perfect."

"Yeah, he is," Emma said in agreement as she grinned smugly at the dark-haired woman across from her. "He most definitely is."

* * *

When Steve opened the door to his apartment and walked through, he smelled something cooking, and he froze in place, the door still halfway open behind him. It didn't smell like anything from the bakery down the street, and it didn't smell like Chinese. He quickly tried to identify the scent and couldn't, so he had to reason to himself that Emma had cooked.

_Oh, God_, he thought quickly. Emma was very verbal about her lack of cooking skills, and she never argued about Steve being the one to cook for the two of them, but it appeared that tonight she'd tried her hand at something. Tentatively, Steve shut the door and lightly crossed in towards the kitchen. He caught sight of Emma with her back to him, her hip leaned against the counter as she looked at the oven. He could see something inside the oven, but he couldn't tell what exactly.

"Emma?" he said quietly so as not to startle her. Emma looked over her shoulder towards him, her blonde hair in a single braid that fell down between her shoulders in the back.

"Hey," she greeted, offering him a smile that didn't look all that genuine. "Kate brought a casserole by. I meant to text you earlier to tell you, but I forgot."

"Kate?" Steve asked with a frown as his anxiety about Emma's food quickly melted away.

"Yeah, you know Kate. Remember? The nurse across the hall? Curly blonde hair?" Emma asked.

"Oh, yeah, now I remember," Steve said. He walked towards her and kissed her on the cheek. "How was your day? Did Robin wind up dropping by like she said she would?"

"Yeah, she did," Emma answered, her grey-green eyes glued to the stove. "How was your day?"

"It was fine. We're being shipped out tomorrow night, so we had to meet and go over the mission. I think I know why Grace hates Rumlow now," he said. Emma glanced up at him with a half-curious look on her face.

"Why?" she asked.

"He's a bit of an asshole," Steve bluntly replied. "He's a cocky son of a bitch."

"You must _really _dislike him if you're going to say 'asshole' and 'son of a bitch' all in one breath," Emma said. Steve grimly nodded.

"Yeah, I'm not too fond of him. He's a damn good agent, though. Smart as hell," he said. Emma's eyes dropped back towards the oven, and she folded her arms across her chest. Steve leaned back against the counter beside her. "Why'd Kate give us a casserole?"

"She said she'd heard about the accident and had been meaning to swing by but just hadn't been able to find the time yet. She's nice," Emma vaguely replied. "It's been in the fridge for most of the evening, so I put it in the oven to heat it back up. I think I can do that without managing to burn the place down."

"Look at you. You're an accomplished woman," Steve said lightly. She smiled, but she didn't look up at him, and the smile didn't reach her eyes. Concern crossed over the blond man's face, and he gently nudged her with his elbow. "You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Emma answered. She looked down at the floor, and that was when Steve knew she wasn't ok; she always looked down whenever she was upset and trying to hide how she felt. "I just found out some upsetting news from Robin today on one of my patients."

"What happened?" Steve asked.

"Remember Agent Simmers? He was hacked pretty bad with an axe?" she asked. Steve nodded. Emma took a deep breath, and she exhaled slowly as she continued to stare at the ground. "He died. About a week after I'd been in Connecticut. He'd been getting better, but…he didn't."

"I'm sorry," Steve said quietly.

"Me too," Emma added. "I get way too emotional about my patients. I always do this." She tried to smile to lighten the mood, but Steve saw that she just wasn't quite up to doing it. He turned towards her and wrapped her up in his arms, quiet and solid.

"Don't apologize," he said. "It just shows that you're human."

"Yeah, but I'm not supposed to get so attached to them." She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes as she listened to his heartbeat. "I'll get over it. I'm just in a bit of a funk right now."

"Death is never easy," Steve said. He wished he had something else better to tell her than that because it sounded so generic and simple and not what he was trying to say, but she relaxed in his arms. Carefully, she pulled back from him and looked up at him, her sea-colored eyes slightly rimmed with pink.

"I think that's why I need you so much," she said thoughtfully. "You know, I've always prided myself on being the type of person who could get along by myself while all my friends were wrapped up in their boyfriends and stuff like that, but…I don't know…that changed when I met you. And I think it's because I've lost so many things in my life that I don't want to lose you at all. And I probably depend on you more than I should, but…" Her voice trailed off as she realized she didn't know where she was going with this.

"I understand," Steve said softly, his voice gentle and quiet and soothing. "Trust me. I understand."

Emma's eyes widened slightly, and she looked alarmed. "Oh, my God. I'm so sorry. That was really insensitive of me to say. I haven't lost anywhere near as much—"

"Em, Em, Em," Steve interrupted. He took her face between his hands and kissed her forehead. "Someone really smart once told me that loss can never be measured. And I think that that person who shared those wise words with me forgets that when it comes to comparing her loss to someone else's."

Emma gave him a watery smile and sighed as she placed her hands on his wrists. "You always know what to say."

"I really don't," Steve admitted. "I just want you to be ok."

"I will be," she said with a firm nod. "I'm just sad right now."

"And it's ok to be sad," Steve confirmed. Emma lifted her eyebrows curiously at him and moved to wrap her arms around his firm, toned waist, silently marveling at how damn fit he was. She always saw him naked, and she figured that wasn't about to end any time soon, but damn, she would never get used to how built he was.

"Someone should take his own advice," she pointed out. "You don't have to be strong all the time. You don't always have to be the leader."

"What are you talking about?" Steve asked, confused.

"Steve…you've been avoiding the Smithsonian for a reason," Emma said slowly. "Before you say anything, I'm not trying to get you to talk about anything you don't want to talk about. You don't have to if you don't want to. Just know that it's ok for you to be sad, too. You're just as human as I am."

Steve frowned at her. "I don't know—"

"Steve." Her voice was a gentle whisper. He swallowed, and he looked slightly off to the side. She pressed her hands comfortingly into the small of his back, and she tucked her forehead against his chest. He lowered his arms around her again, and they stood there in silence.

He hadn't wanted to go to the Smithsonian because of the fact that he'd be forced to face Bucky. He'd locked away those emotions for so long, but the time was coming where he couldn't hide from it any longer. Facing Peggy and getting past that had been one thing, but facing Bucky would be another thing entirely. He rested his head against the top of Emma's blonde hair, his face turned to the side so that his cheek lay comfortably against her. He closed his eyes and relished the feeling of touching her.

Her touch had always brought him clarity and calm. Even back when he'd first woken up, and she'd touched him to take his vitals, he'd felt a little bit less alone in the world. She had such a soothing effect on him that he wondered how he'd ever been able to feel calm without her. So he took what he could for as long as he could. He held tight to her and let the strength he always tried to have for everyone else give way just the tiniest bit.

* * *

_**Captain America: The Winter Soldier **_**Preview**

Steve calmly waited for Sam to follow through on his part of the plan, and he looked out over the tops of the other buildings to kill time.

"What about Aruba? Aruba would be a fun honeymoon destination," Natasha suggested suddenly.

"Aruba?" Steve asked. "Isn't that where that one girl was kidnapped and killed?"

"Natalee Holloway," Grace confirmed with a nod. "Wait, you know about Natalee Holloway?"

"I have a laptop," Steve said, looking mildly offended. "I might be a bit behind on the times, but I do my research."

"Huh," Grace said, impressed. "Well, yeah, that's where Natalee Holloway went missing. Lot of girls go there to have fun over the summer, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I'm not ready for that," Steve said. "If I'm going to go on a honeymoon, it'd have to be somewhere a little calmer."

True to the plan, Sam appeared from below, wings outstretched with Sitwell screaming and kicking in his hands.


	18. Ghosts

**Shoutouts to MsRose91, Lilybear3121, RedRoses5, Jo, and LilyHiddleston96 for reviewing!**

**I'm still not getting as much feedback as I have been, so hopefully it's because you guys are busy and not because you're not interested? If you're no longer interested, though, please let me know. I'm having insecurities, y'all!**

**This chapter and the next one are a bit fluffy like the last few chapters have been. I know that things have been really light lately, and there hasn't been much drama, but I'm setting it up for my _Winter Soldier _version, if people still want me to write that one. Lot of foreshadowing coming up.**

**RedRoses5 asked what actress I'd play as Emma, so I've spent the past few days searching relentlessly trying to find someone because no one quite had the right look I had in mind. The closest that I was able to get was probably this one picture of Rosie Huntington-Whiteley. Google Image "Rosie Huntington-Whiteley Berlin press conference," and a series of pictures of her come up. I picture Emma looking kind of like (it's usually the second or third picture on Google) the picture where Rosie has her head tilted kind of back, and her hair is over one shoulder. I don't picture Emma looking _quite _as polished as Rosie does, but that's the closest I could get.**

**Please, please, please give me your thoughts and opinions! This story hasn't received some momentum for a while, so I'm just getting a little worried!**

**Next chapter will probably (_probably_ but haven't decided) be the last one, so expect some smut to send it off with a bang.**

**Enjoy! =)**

**P.S. for extra emotions, listen to "Harbour Lights" - A Silent Film!**

* * *

Chapter 18

_If you can take on HYDRA, the Chitauri, and a national tour to promote selling bonds while wearing tights, you can take on this_, Steve silently told himself. He looked up at the building in front of him before sending a sideways glance towards Emma. She felt his light blue eyes on her and looked back at him, her expression hopeful and curious all at once.

"What if someone sees us?" he asked out loud. Emma yanked on the brim of her baseball cap before reaching up to yank on Steve's.

"We've got this," she said, even though she totally wasn't convinced. The couple could usually get away with not being bothered too badly out in public, but at the Smithsonian visiting an exhibit that focused solely on Steve? That wasn't exactly the kind of place that would encourage the people also coming to see the exhibit to leave the two alone.

"Speak for yourself," Steve replied as he gave her a small smile.

"Baby, we'll be fine." Emma's voice was confident and self-assured, even if she wasn't exactly feeling those two things. She could usually go about her daily life without people recognizing her, but Steve was a different story. Even with his baseball cap pulled down low and his jacket hiding his large muscles, it was still pretty obvious that he was built the exact same way Captain America was i.e. like a tank.

"I'm holding you to that," Steve remarked. She placed a hand on his arm and rubbed it gently before taking a step forward towards the entrance of the museum. As always, Steve knew he had no choice but to follow her. He was used to giving orders and leading others, but when it came to Emma, he would always follow wherever she went.

As quietly and discreetly as they could, they got through the security check. Steve didn't have to suggest that they go find a directory or ask someone for a map of the place because there were large banners with his face on them pointing towards where the exhibit was supposed to be.

"I still can't get used to seeing my face everywhere," he murmured.

"That's the price you pay to be an American hero," Emma replied in a matter of fact voice. "It's a cute picture."

"Cute?" Steve repeated with a grin. "I'm wearing my…my mask thing. I'm supposed to look strong and fierce. Not cute."

"I think it's the spandex that makes you look strong and fierce, not the mask," Emma answered with her own teasing grin. Steve shook his head but started walking towards the exhibit. "Is it just me, or is that couple over there staring at us?"

"Oh, that's not even funny," Steve said, his eyes widening as he quickly looked around him. It struck him as ironic that he was more nervous and worked up about going to his own damn exhibit than he was over charging headfirst into the middle of an alien-infested battlefield. Lifting his hand, he tugged the brim of his cap down a little bit lower as he and Emma walked towards the start of the exhibit.

Emma wasn't sure whether or not she should touch him or hold his hand or anything to let him know that she was there for him; he always seemed to find solace in the feel of her skin, but still, this was a very personal thing for him to go through, and she wasn't sure if it would be better to let him do it by himself or to feel her there with him.

**Captain America: The Living Legend and Symbol of Courage**

Steve slowed in front of the opening sign and looked at it.

"A symbol to the nation," a narration read out somewhere above his head. "A hero to the world. The story of Captain America is one of honor, bravery, and sacrifice."

Steve walked into the exhibit, Emma right by his side, and he winced at the mural painted of him. He hadn't been lying when he'd said he still wasn't used to seeing his face everywhere; the mural itself was nice, of course, but seeing himself depicted as such a hero sometimes made him uncomfortable. In the painting, he was in his Captain America uniform—complete with helmet—and he was saluting. He looked strong, brave, and patriotic, all the things he was supposed to represent for the average American to look up to.

"That's nice," Emma said out loud beside him.

"It is," Steve agreed. "Whoever painted this was great. Wish I could do that. I'm more of a pencil-and-paper kind of guy."

Emma knew he was talking about the actual art of the piece to keep the people around them from suspecting anything. She nodded and walked farther in. Steve didn't dwell for much longer on the painting and walked behind her, stopping in front of an enlarged old picture of him pre-Serum. Actually, now that he looked at it, it was the same picture in Emma's wallet.

**Pre-Serum**

**Weight: 94 lbs**

**Height: 5'4"**

**Post-Serum**

**Weight: 240 lbs**

**Height: 6'2"**

"Denied enlistment due to poor health Steven Rogers was chosen for a program unique in the annals of American warfare," the narration continued. "One that would transform him into the world's first Super Soldier."

Steve studied the picture carefully. Even though he'd lived longer in his post-Serum body than he had in his pre-Serum body, he still never forgot what it was like to struggle the way he had. He looked at the colorful screens beside the written comparisons of his pre-Serum and post-Serum height and weight and saw the actual visual depiction of it as the smaller version of himself was suddenly replaced with the real-life version of himself.

"Wow," he mumbled quietly. "I didn't even realize it was that big of a difference."

"Yeah, it's different seeing it right next to each other like that, isn't it?" Emma agreed. She looked up and took in the sight of Steve watching himself transform on the screen in the form of digital pictures. His face was shadowed by the baseball cap on his head, but the colored lights reflected onto the parts that the cap didn't cover up. She could catch a glimpse of his eyes, curious and surprised as he looked at how drastically he'd changed. Feeling her eyes on him, he glanced down at her and smiled softly.

"It's unbelievable," he said as he started walking on.

"Not only are you an American hero, you're a scientific advancement," Emma said, still keeping her voice low.

"Just the thing I wanted to be," Steve wryly replied. Suddenly, he caught sight of one of his Captain America performances, and he cringed. "We don't have to look at that one."

"Oh, but that's my favorite song they're singing," Emma said innocently. "I think we definitely have to watch the bonds selling Captain America tried to promote before going into the war."

"No, no, we can move on," Steve said. She started to walk over towards the video, her eyes playfully smirking at him, but he grabbed her arm and drew her back in to him. "Ma'am, I'm afraid you're breaking protocol, and we're going to have to escort you out of the exhibit."

Emma started laughing, and she tried to pull away from the Super Soldier without causing too much of a scene. "You're so mean to me."

"Oh, I'm mean to you?" Steve asked, raising his eyebrows at her. "What happened to you telling me I was too good for you? I made you coffee this morning. _And _cheese toast. Wow. You're right, actually. I guess I _am_ pretty mean."

"You're hilarious," Emma replied, smirking. "Come on. We're starting to draw attention to us."

Quickly, Steve glanced around him and saw that people were, indeed, looking at the young couple sharing a moment in the middle of a Captain America exhibit. He calmly released his grasp on Emma's arm and started innocently walking towards a video that showed him leading a group of men out of a tank.

"Battle tested, Captain America and his Howling Commandos quickly earned their stripes," the narration announced. "Their mission: taking down HYDRA, the Nazi rogue science division."

Emma watched the grainy footage of Steve running out into battle with his shield ready to take on a defensive or offensive position. She took a peek up at him and saw that he wasn't looking completely pained as he took in the image. Gently, she nudged him with her elbow and nodded towards a whole other display.

"Uniforms," she said. Steve looked to where she was pointing, and he saw the familiar uniforms that he and his team had worn. He froze, his body completely still. Even now, he could've closed his eyes and remembered every single part of every single uniform that his men had worn for their missions. Slowly, Steve forced his body to move, and he crossed towards the display. Behind the uniforms showed a picture above the outfit that each member of the Howling Commandos would've worn, and beneath the individual uniform, there was a biography of the person who'd worn it.

One after the other. Dum Dum Dugan. Gabe Jones. Jim Morita. James Montgomery Falsworth. Jacques Dernier. And Bucky. Steve barely glanced over his old uniform as his eyes landed on Bucky's. Suddenly, a rush of emotion hit him with a force he hadn't been expecting. Pain and grief swelled up in his chest, and he swallowed hard in an attempt to keep it down. This was the first time he'd seen anything of Bucky's in…God, he didn't even know how long it'd been.

"Baby, are you ok?" Emma's quiet voice was at his side, but he didn't look down at her. He kept his eyes focused on Bucky's uniform, and he silently nodded. And then he shook his head.

"I don't know," he said finally. Emma stepped in towards him, unsure of whether to touch him or not, and she settled on folding her arms over her chest.

"It's ok," she said softly. "You don't have to be."

Steve swallowed again, and he nodded, carefully stepping aside so the person beside them could get a better look. He was now directly in front of his uniform, and he finally allowed himself to look at it, making a conscious effort not to look at Bucky's again. Despite the grief he'd just been feeling, he managed to smile with fondness at his old uniform.

"Believe it or not, it was pretty comfortable," he said out loud to Emma, again being careful to keep his voice quiet.

"Do you like this one or your new one better?" she asked. "Or the one you wore for the Battle of New York?"

Steve thought, squinting his eyes slightly at the red, white, and blue clothing. "My newest one. It's lighter and more comfortable." He nodded towards the displayed uniform. "That one's just more familiar."

"It's more noticeable," Emma pointed out. "Can't miss the stars and the stripes."

"Yeah, the uniform I have now is better for blending in," Steve agreed.

"My star-spangled man with a plan," Emma said with a hopeful smile up towards him, testing to see his reaction. He smiled back at her and quickly kissed the top of her baseball cap, placing his arm around the top of her shoulders. Quietly, they walked towards the part of the exhibit that Steve had been dreading the most: the section dedicated to Bucky. There on a see-through panel entitled A Fallen Comrade was Bucky's face and biography.

"Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country," the overhead narration announced. Emma looked down at the video playing beneath the panel and saw the two men—one dead for many years, one very much alive beside her—talking silently, both of them smiling and laughing.

"He'd just finished telling a story of how I got beaten up after a double date with these two girls he'd picked up. Some guy had been bothering my date, and I'd stepped in when he wouldn't leave her alone. Wound up leaving with two black eyes," Steve spoke up. Emma saw that he was smiling instead of looking sad, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. Absentmindedly, he reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That's actually how I broke my nose, too."

"Did you finish out your double date?" Emma asked.

"No," Steve answered. "Girls don't want to dance with a guy whose nose is bleeding all over his shirt."

"I can see how that would be problematic." Emma looked up and read over Bucky's biography. Steve glanced down at her and noticed her large grey-green eyes skimming over the words.

"He really would've liked you," he said. "You're the kind of dame he would've been on his knees for."

"And I don't doubt that I would've liked him, too," Emma replied. "But I still would've fallen in love with you."

Steve offered up a small smile. "That's questionable."

"Absolutely not."

"Don't lie."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"Maybe."

"You're going to be the death of me, Steven."

"I hope not." Steve tightened his hold around her shoulders and started walking away from Bucky's biography. He allowed the playfulness of the moment with Emma to counter out the sadness he still felt about Bucky. He looked down at the top of Emma's baseball cap as they entered one of the little mini-movie theaters to watch a short documentary on the Howling Commandos, and he tried to imagine what Bucky would've said after meeting her for the first time.

"Holy cow, how the hell'd you snag that one? She's a knockout. She got a sister?" Bucky would've said, his dark brown eyes wide and impressed. Steve smiled to himself. "Careful, punk. If you don't watch her close enough, I may just steal her away from you."

_Miss you, Buck_, he thought. _Still do_.

* * *

Steve and Emma made their way through the rest of the exhibit; the farther into it they went, the more Steve lightened up and felt the weight lift off his chest. They'd just left the section detailing his involvement with the Battle of New York and the Avengers and had now entered the last mini-movie theater.

**Changes for Captain America**

The title card faded into the screen, and Steve grinned at it; he had no idea what this little documentary was going to be about, but there was something kind of exciting to sitting and waiting to know what it was going to show. He lifted the brim of his cap a little bit now that he was hidden in the dark of the movie theater.

"Steve is…he's great!" The screen was black, but Emma's voice filled the dark theater. Amused, he looked down at her and saw her eyes wide with surprise. Slowly, she lifted both of her hands up to her face and covered her cheeks, leaving enough space so that she could peek out. The camera came up on Emma and showed a bright, smile and clear, open eyes.

"So many people think he's this really serious guy, but he's got a goofy side. He's funny," Onscreen Emma said with a wide, knowing smile.

"Steven Rogers woke up to many new aspects of life in 2012, but perhaps the biggest new thing in his life was the chance at love. Emma Carroll was assigned to Steven Rogers as his nurse when he woke up in New York's SHIELD hospital. Born in Connecticut, she grew up with her mother and father, Leah and Thomas Carroll, a pilot-navigator team for Delta Airlines," the narrator for the film said. Pictures of young Emma flashed across the screen. Emma let out a quiet sigh of embarrassment. There were pictures of her from her third grade science fair, fourth grade field trip, and even a few of her school pictures.

"At the age of 11, she and her parents were on their way out of town when the plane crashed. Emma survived. Her parents, however, did not," the narrator said as a picture of Emma with her parents was displayed. Emma swallowed. She was probably nine in the picture, and her parents looked exactly as she remembered them. Her mom with her blonde hair and her dad with his grey-green eyes that she'd wound up inheriting from him.

"After that, Emma was sent to live with her aunt and uncle and three cousins, who raised her as their own," the narrator said. More pictures of Emma came across the screen, though this time she was in middle school, and she was surrounded by her cousins. She recognized younger versions of Alex, hair wild and sticking up, Evan, usually covered with dirt, and Dave, always shy in front of the camera, and she couldn't help but smile.

"After graduating from Fordham University, she was hired by SHIELD to work at one of their hospitals," the narrator continued. The camera showed Onscreen Emma again.

"I was in my first year of nursing when I was assigned to be Steve's nurse. Of course, that was the huge thing around the hospital. Steve Rogers was alive. All this time everyone's thought Captain America was dead, and he was just alive. It was a huge, _huge _shock," Onscreen Emma said, her smile refusing to fade. "So I was his nurse."

"Emma Carroll and Steven Rogers's nurse-patient relationship progressed, ultimately, to love," the narrator said. Onscreen Emma tucked a piece of blonde hair behind her ear and eagerly beamed at the camera.

"We were both at very different times in our lives when we met. Couldn't have been more opposite. But for whatever reason, I felt a connection to him…" Emma's voice trailed off, and she offered up a small half-shrug. "I don't know how else to explain it. It was like I couldn't _not_ be around him any more."

Suddenly, Steve appeared on the screen. Emma nudged him with her elbow, lowering her hands from her face to look over at him, and he winced. He remembered that they'd come to him for some interviews several times, and he'd hated it. Until now, he'd completely forgotten about it since the other interviews had only had small snippets taken from them and put into a few other documentaries.

"Emma saved me," Onscreen Steve said candidly. "I don't know how else to put it. She was what I needed at that time in my life, and I don't know how I would've gotten to where I am without her."

"The couple were together for a little less than a year before moving in together sometime shortly after the Battle of New York," the narrator interjected.

"I think that war has a way of helping you figure out what's important in your life," Onscreen Steve solemnly spoke. "And the Battle of New York wasn't an exception to that."

The camera cut to Onscreen Emma. "He's changed a lot since he first woke up. It's remarkable. He is a very different person now than he was back in 2012. And a good thing about him is that he accepts change. He's very open to new experiences in his life, and when he woke up, that was a completely different…that was an astronomically large change for him. But he got through it. And the Battle of New York was just one more thing he had to get through, and he did."

"Since then, Emma Carroll and Steven Rogers have continued their relationship. According to TIME Magazine, they are one of the most photographed couples in the country," the narrator added. Pictures and video clips of Steve and Emma walking down the street, sitting in Central Park, and even grocery shopping popped up.

"The media is definitely something new," Onscreen Steve said with an unhappy little smile. "I didn't get that kind of attention back in the '40s. There just isn't any respect from these people who just want your picture."

"The paparazzi?" Onscreen Emma wrinkled her nose. "I'm not a fan. At all."

"Why do you have to chase me down the street?" Onscreen Steve asked in an annoyed tone. "I don't get it. Is my picture really that important to you? Is it honestly so important for you to take a picture of my girlfriend and me going to get a coffee that you have to hide in a bunch of bushes so we don't see you? I don't get it at all."

"We've both experienced a lot of changes," Onscreen Emma said when the camera snapped back to her interview. "I'm used to being a small town girl from Connecticut, and he's used to an entirely different time period. Back in his day, the thought of an alien invasion was purely science fiction."

"Yeah, Emma's an important part of my life," Onscreen Steve said sincerely. "She's the best part about this century. She sucks up all the sunlight wherever she goes." Onscreen Steve paused with a wide-eyed expression. "I mean that in a good way. A good kind of sucking up the sunlight."

"He's the best," Onscreen Emma said, her smile soft and glowing. "He changed the way of the war, the way we live today. Without Steve Rogers, we wouldn't be anywhere the country that we are. And not only did he change the world, he changed me."

Onscreen Steve came back, and he gave a tiny shrug. "I can't imagine a world without her."

"Presently, Steven Rogers is employed with SHIELD, and Emma Carroll still works for SHIELD in their hospitals. They continue to live together and share a life. Captain America has certainly faced many changes throughout his life, past and present, but love for the American hero is perhaps one of the greatest changes of all," the narrator concluded. Suddenly, the documentary was over. The end credits began scrolling, and Emma and Steve sat still in the back of the theater as people shifted to get up and leave.

"I don't know if that was terrible or great," Emma mumbled from behind her hand.

"I think we're the world's greatest love story," Steve added. "I guess that's an honor."

"I had no idea they were going to do a documentary on us." Emma lowered her hand and looked over at Steve. "Does my voice really sound like that?"

"No," Steve honestly answered. "Your voice sounds much lovelier in person."

Emma shoved her cap back down over her face and let out a quiet groan. "I thought I was only being interviewed for little snippets here and there. Instead, they did a whole five-minute documentary on us."

"Surprise," Steve blandly greeted. "Well, the good news is that they didn't misquote us or anything. All the times we've read interviews where the reporter misquoted either of us on something? At least it didn't happen this time."

"True," Emma agreed. Sighing, she sat forward in her chair and looked around the theater. They were the last people in there, and she couldn't say she minded all that much, considering that she'd just been speaking at a volume that wasn't all that inconspicuous. "I think this was the final portion of your exhibit."

Steve stood up and stretched his muscles before inching his way out of the row of seats, Emma right behind him. "Really?"

"Yeah, I think so," Emma replied. She fell into step beside him as they both walked out of the dark mini-theater and back into the light of the exhibit. Sure enough, she'd been right. "Yep. That's it."

They exited and found that they had been circled around to the front lobby of the Air & Space Museum. Steve stood still in his spot and looked up at all the planes that hung above them. He'd been avoiding this place for so long, but now he realized that it'd been stupid. Just like with Peggy, he'd found a certain amount of closure with looking at Bucky's uniform and dealing with the grief he'd locked down for so long.

Emma started to walk towards the exit, and he moved into place beside her. They were both silent as they walked out of the museum and across the street towards the grassy center strip of the mall. It was a gorgeous day outside, and people were all over the place to take advantage of the beautiful weather.

"What'd you think?" she asked. He was leading them towards a shaded place under a tree, and she watched him curiously for a reaction. With a surprising amount of grace for a grown man of his size and bulk, he eased himself down to the grassy floor and looked up at her. He patted the spot beside him as an invitation, and she lowered herself down, too.

"I didn't hate it," he replied thoughtfully. "I thought it was going to be a lot worse than what it really was."

"Yeah?" Emma asked. He nodded.

"Seeing Bucky's old uniform…" He didn't allow himself to speak more. He just laid his head back against the tree and breathed quietly for a few seconds. "I don't like dealing with ghosts."

"Me neither," Emma replied softly, thinking about the picture of her when she was little with her parents. Ghosts were the exact reason that she'd avoided going back home to Connecticut for so long. Her parents were always going to be there in the back of her mind no matter how much time went by. And that wasn't even taking into consideration the ghosts of the secrets they'd left behind, either.

"You were right," Steve spoke. "I was avoiding the Smithsonian."

"And I was avoiding going home," she added. "We all have things we don't like remembering."

"Why are you always right? It drives me crazy," Steve said, but he smiled as he said it. "You're too wise for me."

"No way," Emma replied, wrinkling her nose at him in such an adorable way, Steve felt his heart melt into a huge puddle. "You're the old guy. You have more life experience."

"Always with the age," Steve sighed.

"Your ridiculous amounts of freedom should give you more wisdom, too," Emma suggested. Steve let out a groan and turned his head towards her.

"I shouldn't have even said anything," he said. They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, just enjoying the beautiful day and the breath of fresh air that came with sitting in nature.

"Well, just know that you don't have to deal with your ghosts alone," Emma said suddenly.

"Neither do you," Steve returned genuinely. "You're just as guilty of putting on that whole strong complex you accused me of recently."

"Am I?" Emma asked with an amused smile. Steve grinned and nodded.

"Yeah, you are," he replied. "You're totally just as guilty of it as I am. That's why we fit together so well. You don't have to carry your burdens around by yourself. I'm here for you. I want to be here for you. I love you. Your weight is my weight, and your happiness is my happiness."

Emma leaned her head back against the tree and turned to look at him, her sea-colored eyes soft and warm. "I must've done something really great to get you in my life."

"Hey, so I have a proposition for you," Steve said suddenly, his blue eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Yeah? What is it?" she asked.

"Next Saturday night. Seven o'clock. You and me. The Swing Dancers' Association is having a USO-style dance. What do you say we clean up real nice and head down there to jitterbug?" he asked. Emma stared at him with large eyes, and her mouth fell open a slight bit.

"Steve…are you asking what I think you're asking?" she asked.

"You bet I am, sugar," Steve answered with a quick, uncharacteristic wink a la Bucky Barnes.

"You're serious?" Emma asked, her voice rising with excitement.

"Yep," Steve said. "I figured it's about time we danced."

"Yes." Emma didn't hesitate a second longer. "I'd love to."

"It's a date." Steve smirked at her and wrapped her hand up in his, his fingers lacing through. "I figured now that you have your cast off, and Monday's your first day back at work, we'd be able to celebrate." He paused. "Actually, I've been planning this for a while."

"I thought you didn't dance," Emma remarked, her eyes still on Steve as she stared at him with leftover shock. "We've talked about this before."

"I _didn't _dance," Steve agreed. "But now seemed like the right time. I'm 95, so I should probably learn how."

"I can't believe you don't know how to dance," Emma replied. "Why didn't you?"

"Bucky was the dancer," Steve said, repeating what he'd said before back when they'd visited Peggy. "He was good at it, and girls wanted to dance with him. Me, on the other hand…"

"Even after you became Captain America? I doubt that you didn't have girls wanting to dance with you. You were one of America's very first sex symbols," Emma pointed out. Steve shot her a quick look at the mention of him being a sex symbol, but he smiled softly.

"Well, I was waiting for you," he said with a casual shrug. "Just didn't know it."

"That's the best kind of waiting," Emma replied. And he didn't argue because she was right. She was always right.

* * *

That night, Steve had his first nightmare in a long time.

He was in the middle of fighting the Chitauri, and he was lying on his back, staring up at the alien with the horrifying realization going through his mind that he was about to die at the hands of an alien. A week ago, aliens had just been a stupid, nonrealistic idea from bad science fiction novels, but here he was about to die at the hands of one. As he lifted his hand over his face and waited for the blast to hit him, another blast hit the alien, and it was down.

"I knew I'd have to save your ass again," a familiar voice said. Startled, Steve looked up and saw the face of Bucky Barnes staring down at him. The fighting continued around the two of them, but no aliens bothered them, acting as if the two soldiers weren't even there.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Steve asked. He quickly scrambled to his feet and looked at his childhood best friend. This was a dream he'd had before—he'd dreamed about Bucky saving him time and time again, always having a smart ass comment and smirk on his face.

"What the hell does it look like?" Bucky countered. He looked over his shoulder towards Natasha, Clint, and Grace as they battled the Chitauri army. "Not quite the same as the Howling Commanods, huh?"

"Not quite," Steve agreed. "I'm dreaming."

"I guess you are." Bucky looked down at himself as if to make sure that he were really there. He was dressed in the ragged clothes that Steve had found him wearing when he'd been captured by HYDRA. His hair was unkempt, and he looked tired, the kind of tired that only hours of fighting could leave behind. "Your dreams are frighteningly realistic."

"I've noticed," Steve replied. "I mean, alien invasions and you coming back from the dead. That's completely realistic."

"You're a hilarious bastard," Bucky said with a smile. "Not a perfect soldier, but a good man."

"What?" Steve asked in disbelief. Bucky had never said that to him. He blinked, and suddenly, Bucky was no longer there, but Dr. Erskine was. He was wearing his lab coat and his glasses, the frames slightly askew on his nose. "Dr. Erskine?"

"Steven, you are not alone, no?" Dr. Erskine asked. Steve frowned. Blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth, and he lifted his hand to wipe it away.

"Doctor, what's going on?" he asked.

"The Serum worked. I'm very happy it was you. It seems that my work has caused some other…unfortunate incidents, however." Dr. Erskine glanced casually behind him as the Hulk let out a loud, rage-filled roar. Steve looked over the doctor's shoulder and saw the giant green thing force a series of Chitauri warriors down. "Yes, that was not supposed to happen." The doctor's eyes drifted over to Grace, and he smiled. "That one was not so much of a failure."

"Her parents did that to her when she was far too young for the procedure," Steve said as his gaze turned towards the fierce amber-eyed brunette who was firing guns from both hands towards the enemy.

"She was a success. It appears as though she was the next Steven Grant Rogers," Dr. Erskine replied. Steve's frown deepened as he looked back towards the German doctor.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"She was the next Super Soldier. Though I suppose the correct term is Super Spy," Dr. Erskine said. "She isn't exactly a soldier."

"This is the strangest dream I've ever had," Steve remarked out loud. Dr. Erskine smiled at him.

"I love you," he said. Steve couldn't help the movement of his head jerking back as he stared in shock at the doctor. But just as how Bucky had become Dr. Erskine, Dr. Erskine had become Emma. However, they were no longer in the middle of the Battle of New York—they were somewhere that Steve had never wanted to see again.

He immediately recognized the train as the one that had been carrying Dr. Arnim Zola when he and the rest of the Howling Commandos had leapt on board to capture him. It was the train that Bucky had died on.

Emma was wearing a uniform like Peggy's, and her hair was styled in victory rolls, pinned back beautifully with dark, dark red lipstick. She smiled brightly at him, the kind of smile that made him weak in the knees whenever she looked at him like that.

"Em. Em, honey, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"I don't know," Emma replied, suddenly looking confused. She looked down at her uniform and then back up at him. "Steve, where are we?"

"We're on a train. We're back in 1944. This is a dream," Steve said. The door to the room they were in was kicked down, and immediately, he reached out and grabbed Emma. He pulled her behind his shield with her and ducked down as weapons were fired at them. One blast hit the wall of the train, and the wall was blasted away. Quickly darting his head up, he looked and raised his free hand as he shot the HYDRA agent shooting them. His bullet hit its point, and the person slid down to the ground.

"Steve!" Emma exclaimed. He looked down at her and saw her staring up at him with shock. "Steve…"

"Are you ok? Are you hit?" Steve pulled back and scanned over her as quickly as he could, all while steering her away from the open side of the train that exposed them to the mountains outside. She appeared to be ok, though rattled by everything that had happened. Her face pale, she nodded.

"Guns are much louder in person than they are in the movies," she said breathlessly. Steve smirked from behind his helmet and went to reply when someone ran through the door towards them. Going on the defensive, Steve pulled Emma back behind the shield until he realized who was with them.

"Bucky?" he asked. Now _this _portion of the dream was brand new. Bucky was breathing hard, as if he'd been running, and he was no longer wearing the clothes he'd worn when captured by SHIELD; this time, he was wearing the uniform he always wore as a Howling Commando. He lowered his shield from both him and Emma as he stared at Bucky in surprise.

"Steve," Bucky said urgently.

"What?" Steve asked.

"You can't be here!" Bucky shouted over the rush of the wind.

"I have to, Buck!" Steve shouted back. Suddenly, with no warning at all, Bucky raised his gun and fired. For a moment, Steve wasn't sure what had happened. What had Bucky been firing at? But then he felt Emma's body jerk beside him, and he looked at her. She looked confused, not looking up at him as she looked down at her torso. Slowly, blood began to seep through the dark fabric of her uniform.

Steve stopped breathing as he realized what Bucky had done. Bucky had shot Emma. His best friend had shot Emma. His best friend had just shot the woman he loved. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion; Emma's knees started to collapse, and Steve lunged towards her. She was falling towards the ground, her blonde hair falling forward over her shoulder.

"Emma!" Steve barely recognized the shout that came from his mouth. He caught her, and everything went back into regular time. She was bleeding heavily now, her face full of shock and confusion. "Em. Emma, honey. Honey, you're going to be ok. Do you hear me? You're going to be ok."

Her eyes tilted up towards him with frantic panic, and he grasped her to him tightly. _No. No, no, no, no, no. This isn't happening. This isn't happening_, Steve thought. He looked up at Bucky for help, but Bucky was gone. Emma was grabbing the front of his uniform, her body shaking as she slipped into shock. Steve's chest grew tight, and he tried to open her uniform to get to her, but she put her hand on his to stop him—they both knew what was going to happen.

"Emma, no. No, no, no. You're going to be ok. Let me help you," he said quickly. She swallowed; her breathing was shaky, and her face was pale, and Steve knew that he couldn't save her.

"Keep her safe," Peggy's voice said. Steve's head shot up, and he saw Peggy, young and beautiful as she stood still. "Keep her safe, Steve."

"I'm trying," Steve said. "Peggy, I need your help."

"Keep her safe," Peggy repeated. Frustrated, Steve looked down at Emma to check in on her, but she wasn't moving. Her body was completely still, and her bright, beautiful eyes were staring off at something else, unseeing and unmoving.

"Em. Emma. Em, stay with me," he said. "Stay with me, Emma."

But she didn't move. She was dead, and there was nothing he could do.

* * *

Steve woke up with a jolt. Sweat poured down the side of his hair, running freely from his hairline. His breath was coming hard and heavy, and he found that he was unable to get enough oxygen. He could only see the darkness of his room—nothing but darkness.

"Steve. Steve, are you with me? Baby, look at me. You're ok. I'm here. You're ok." Emma's voice filled his ear, and he looked towards her with huge, panicked eyes.

"Emma," he breathed.

"I'm here, Steve," she said. Without waiting any longer, Steve grabbed her and wrapped her up tightly in his arms. She held him in return, her body relaxing against his and her hands gently rubbing the tense muscles of his back. "You're ok."

"I thought…I—I thought…" Steve's voice trailed off. He couldn't say it out loud. He just couldn't. The image of Emma dying in his arms at the hands of his best friend was too much, and he felt his breath catch in the back of his throat. He buried his face in her hair, breathing the smell of her sweet shampoo in.

"Steven…you're ok," Emma whispered. He closed his eyes as he realized that her hands were rubbing over him. He focused on her touch—it was always her touch that calmed him down. His heart was thumping hard in his chest, but this time it wasn't from how much he wanted her—it was from how much he needed to forget that she'd died in his arms in his dream.

"I love you so much," he whispered.

"I love you, too, Steven. I love you." Emma's voice flowed over him like water, and he listened to her. He listened to her repeat over and over to him that he was ok, allowing her to pull him down to lie down in front of her. She cradled his head against her chest and softly stroked his hair.

Before long, his breathing slowed and his grip slackened, and he was asleep, the memory of her fingers threading through his hair his last thought.


	19. Dancing

**Shoutouts to thecruelworldwelivein, RedRoses5, la misteriosa volpe (thanks for the song recommendation! Love it!), Jo, Lilybear3121, LadyFelton1994, LilyHiddleston96, Dessie, Lily, and Guest for reviewing!**

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed and gave me some feedback because I've been getting some more unfollows on my **_**Supernatural **_**one and just wanted to check in with y'all. Every single review counts and means the world to me! =)**

**Dessie asked me if I would be interested in writing a Bucky Barnes/OC story, and that's actually really coincidental because I started thinking about writing one. Any opinions? Ugh, I have so many emotions about Bucky Barnes, and I literally started thinking about writing a Bucky/OC like, two days ago, and I kind of have a first chapter mapped out in my head?**

_**MOST IMPORTANT PART OF THIS AUTHOR'S NOTE**_: **Lastly, this is, indeed, the final chapter of this story. However, if you would like to continue Steve and Emma's journey, they will return in my **_**Winter Soldier **_**story, and that will be called **_**Falling Slowly**_**. (I've recommended the song "Falling Slowly" before for this story, and I think that song's kind of Emma and Steve's theme. At least in my head. Is it weird that I have playlists for my stories? That might be weird, but I do make them to keep me on the right track for characterization!) At least as of right now, I think it'll be called that, but I may change my mind. (There is a **_**lot **_**of foreshadowing in this story for what happens in that one! Just keep that in mind!) I would like to have the first chapter up on Thursday, so if you'd like to get email notifications for when I **_**do **_**upload it, feel free to Follow and/or Favorite me!**

**Well, guys, this is the end of the road. Thank you all so so so so so much for all the beautiful support and kind words you've given me. You seriously make my day, and I love each and every one of you for being so lovely and amazing.**

**Ok, I'm sorry, this is my last paragraph: this chapter contains smut, so be prepared ;)**

**Enjoy! =)**

* * *

Chapter 19

When Steve and Emma had first started having sex, Steve had been so gentle that Emma had had to tell him that it was ok to be a little more rough with her. He was aware of his own strength—hell, he was always breaking doorknobs by accidentally turning them too hard. He could crash through a wall by exerting very little force, and he wouldn't be hurt at all; his enhanced strength was something that most of the time was good but was sometimes the total opposite.

Little by little, Emma had helped him figure out the right places to touch with the right amount of pressure until she fell apart beneath him. Simultaneously, Steve had discovered what he liked and what it took to get him to his climax. They both knew each other's bodies as well as they knew their own, and neither of them felt any shame in it.

And Steve never would have expected it, but sex was different than it had been in the 1940s. Steve hadn't had any sex at all during his time period, but he'd heard enough talk in the military to be knowledgeable about what to do and how; however, comparing what he'd learned then to what he knew about sex now, he couldn't help realizing how different it was. Back in the 1940s, men were supposed to be dominant and in control of the sexual activities; in the 2010s, it was perfectly acceptable for women to be dominant. In the 1940s, oral sex wasn't something that was commonly accepted, but now in the 2010s, it was. Sex was just one of the many things that had changed with the times.

Therefore, that meant that Steve had had to change with the times, too.

All of these thoughts flashed through Steve's head as he heard Emma come out of the bedroom, her high heels clicking against the wooden floorboards, and he turned over his shoulder to look at her. Putting it conservatively, she took his breath away. He stood still in his spot, simply staring at her. She was wearing a forest green, flower print dress that cinched in at the waist and hit right at the knee. The neck was a deep V-line that showed just enough cleavage to make his mouth water but not so much that it was historically inaccurate. She wore simple, cream-colored heels with a strap around the ankle that matched the flowers on her dress, and she even had on tights that had the seam going up the back. Her blonde hair was curled and done up in victory rolls in the front, and her make up was perfect, her lipstick a bright, bright red.

"Hot damn," Steve choked out finally. Carefully, Emma patted the side of her hair as she stared at him, her own eyes huge as she took in the sight of him in his old 1940s Army uniform that he'd dug out special for the occasion.

"Do I look the part?" she asked, her mouth dry. Steve felt tongue-tied as he looked her up and down, and he nodded, speechless. He always thought she was stunning, but seeing her in this get up was something completely new for him. He also couldn't help wanting to take her right then and there, and he wasn't afraid to say so.

"You do," he said. "That—that dress looks great on you."

"You like it?" Emma asked with a faint smile. He nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "I love it. But as much as I love it on you, I can't wait to take it off of you later tonight."

Emma's eyes darkened, and he saw her swallow. "Good. Because I can't wait to get that uniform off of you."

Steve shifted in his spot, grinning at her. "So you don't think the uniform is too much?"

"Oh, no," Emma said quickly. Slowly, she crossed towards him and placed her hands on his broad, sturdy chest. The fabric of the uniform was thick, thereby keeping her from feeling the detail of his muscles beneath her hands, but she could feel the solidity of his body, and that was enough for her. For now. "But later tonight is a different story."

Steve placed his hands firmly on her hips and pressed her against him, his mouth drifting by her ear. "We've got to go before I undress you right here."

"Don't tempt me," Emma sighed back. "I'd kiss you, but…" Her voice trailed off as she pointed to her lipstick. Steve smiled and kissed her forehead before pulling back and slipping his hand in hers.

"Let's go dance." As he walked with her out the door of the apartment, locking it behind him, he couldn't help remembering the dream he'd had a week ago. Even though Emma wasn't dressed in one of the military uniforms Peggy had worn back during the war, seeing her dressed a la 1940s made him nervous. He hadn't been able to figure why he'd had that dream or what it meant, but it'd rattled him more than he would have liked.

He'd had similar dreams before, dreams where Bucky would show up and save him from the Chitauri, and then they'd finish out the Battle of New York together. Sometimes Steve had even had the occasional dream about Dr. Erskine repeating his mantra of not being a perfect soldier but a good man. However, Steve had never had a dream in which Bucky had shot and killed Emma.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and tried not to think about how similar to his dream she looked with her hair and make up done the same way as she had in the dream. Feeling a chill run down his spine, an eerie sense of foreshadowing, he slipped his arm around Emma and tried to ignore Peggy Carter's voice telling him to keep her safe.

* * *

Emma could hear the music before they even set foot in the building. She looked up excitedly at Steve with a huge smile on her face.

"This is it," she said.

"Yeah, it is," Steve agreed. He looked up at the building and tried to calm his nerves. In some ways, he was more nervous about learning to dance than he had been about losing his virginity. Familiar swing music was blaring from inside, and even though he was nervous, he had to admit that the music made him want to move. He squeezed Emma's hand and walked headfirst into the dance hall. Instantly, he recognized the song playing, and he couldn't help but smile.

"I know this song," he said out loud.

"Yeah?" Emma asked.

"Duke Ellington. 'Take the "A" Train'," Steve replied. "This is great."

"See, we've got this," Emma said cheerfully. It was then that she noticed people starting to stare at them. "Steve, I think people are starting to figure out who we are."

Steve glanced around the room, his blue eyes alert, and he was able to agree with her. Most everyone there was older than they were—disregarding Steve's _actual _age—and they were staring at the young couple, leaning in and whispering to the people standing beside them.

"Do you want to stay or go?" he asked.

"Let's stay," Emma replied. Casually, she and the Army captain crossed farther into the room and towards one of the remaining empty tables so she could set her bag down. "Do you know anything about swing dance?"

"Kind of?" Steve answered, though his statement came out as more of a question. "I mean, I saw it all the time since that was what was popular during my time."

"But you don't really know how to dance it?" Emma asked. Steve shook his head. "Me neither. Dancing these days is different than dancing in your time. There aren't really steps you do now. You just move." She looked up at him. "What's our plan of attack?"

"Slow song," Steve answered immediately. "I think I can figure out how to handle a slow song."

"Me, too," Emma agreed.

"So we'll wait for a slow song to get out there. But until then, I think it would be beneficial to observe everyone," he continued. Emma gave an affirmative nod as she sat down in the closest chair at the table, Steve across from her. She could feel the eyes of everyone else on them, but strangely, she didn't feel all that uncomfortable underneath all these eyes. The stares were more curious than invasive, and that she did not mind.

"I'm going to start digging around SHIELD again on Monday," Steve suddenly but quietly announced. Emma paused and looked over at him with a confused frown on her face.

"Digging around for what?" she asked.

"Your parents. The car accident," Steve replied. Emma's eyes widened, and she quickly shook her head, her blonde curls shaking around her shoulders from the movement.

"Steve, no," she said. "Not enough time has passed."

"It's been nearly two months since the accident," Steve protested. "I promised you answers, Em. I'm going to get them for you."

"Not now," Emma said with another firm shake of her head. She leaned in to him so people couldn't hear. "It's still too dangerous. If these people were able to figure out that I was snooping around, they'll definitely know _you _are."

"Emma—"

"Wait just a little longer," Emma said evenly. "Please. Just a little bit longer before you start up again. That's all I'm asking."

Steve looked at her with conflict on his face, but then he gave a single nod. "Ok."

"Thank you." A slow smile spread over Emma's face, and he sighed.

"But only because you asked me to dressed like this," he said with a smirk on his face. Emma beamed brightly at him and tilted her head flirtatiously to the side.

"Now I know what to wear whenever I want something from you," she teased. Steve was about to reply when an older man approached the table.

"Excuse me," he said politely, his gaze respectfully directed towards Emma. "Would you do me the honor of dancing this next one with me?"

Emma glanced at Steve, and he grinned, holding his hands up to show that he didn't mind. She looked back up at the man and nodded. "Yes. I would love to."

The man was in his late sixties, and he was dressed in khakis and a button down, the outfit somewhat resembling what Steve had worn back before she'd given him modern day style tips. She bit back her grin as she thought about Peggy giving Steve shit for it, and she made a mental note to tell Peggy about it the next time she saw her again.

"What's your name, ma'am?" the man asked her.

"Emma," she replied.

"It's nice to meet you, Emma. I'm John," he replied. "You look very nice tonight."

"Thank you," she answered with a smile. He led her out onto the dance floor, and she quickly peeked back at Steve. He was watching her with an amused grin on his face, and he gave her a thumbs up when their eyes met. "I don't really know how to swing dance. I love dancing, but I've never done swing dancing before."

"That's all right," John warmly replied. "It's simple enough. You young people always catch on so quickly to stuff like this."

"How many years have you been swing dancing?" Emma asked.

"My whole life!" he answered happily, smiling brightly. "My parents always did it, so I was exposed to it when I was a boy. My wife and I always loved coming to these dances, and we'd dance the whole night."

"So it sounds like you have enough experience to teach me," Emma replied.

"Like I said, you young people pick up real quick." John smiled at her, and then the music began. At first, Emma had no idea what she was doing. For an older man, John was very limber, and he had no problem taking the lead. And so for the first half of the dance, Emma secretly wanted to die as she realized how clueless she actually was about swing dancing.

But then something changed, and she started to make connections. She noticed patterns, and she began to anticipate John's movements. As she'd predicted, the kind older man was patient with her, and he carefully guided her throughout the dance, helping her along and taking it easy on her. Emma began to see why people loved coming to these dances so much; the lively music pumped around her, and she swore she could feel in her bloodstream.

Before long, however, the song was over, and the dance was done. Breathing hard, she looked excitedly at John. "That was so much fun!"

"See, I knew you'd pick up fast," he replied. "You're a natural."

"Oh, God, you're being too nice," Emma said, suddenly feeling slightly flushed and embarrassed. "Thank you for asking me to dance."

"Thank you for dancing with me." John's eyes were soft as they looked at her. "You reminded me of my wife when I saw you sitting there with the Captain." Emma paused as she heard him refer to Steve as the Captain; her eyes widened the slightest bit, and the older man winked at her. "Tell him thank you for letting me steal you away for a few minutes."

The live band started to play something different, and from the first few notes, Emma could tell it was a slow song. Eagerly, she moved forward back to the table where Steve was, and she held her hand out to him.

"It's a slow song," she said. Steve pressed his lips together and shook his head, meriting a look of confusion and surprise on her face. "No?"

"No. _I'm _supposed to ask _you_ to dance," he said. He stood up and held his hand out to her. "Ma'am, may I have this dance?"

Unable to hide her smile, Emma beamed at him and put her hand in his. "Yes, you may."

She let him lead her out onto the dance floor, again feeling everyone's eyes on them. Steve easily put his arm around her waist, placing his hand on the small of her back, and he held her hand with his other hand. Gently applying pressure to the small of her back, he pulled her in close to him so that her body was against his without pressing her hard into him.

"'It's been a Long, Long Time.' Harry James and Kitty Kallen," Emma said, her sea-colored eyes looking up into his blue ones. He smiled and nodded, looking impressed.

"Right on the money," he said. Slowly, he began to move back and forth to the music, and she moved with him. He wasn't sure if he were doing it right, but Emma didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with the way he was moving. "This was a song that was used to welcome soldiers back from the war."

"Welcome home, Captain," Emma said softly. Steve swallowed, looking down at her with eyes full of an emotion she couldn't identify. She didn't know that he was thinking about how after Bucky had died, had he not been frozen, he wouldn't have had anyone to welcome him home. The only person he'd really had in his life at the time was Bucky, but Bucky had died, and he'd been alone. Well, he'd had Peggy, but he hadn't _really _had Peggy.

So as not to mess up Emma's lipstick, he gently kissed her on the forehead and smiled at her. Emma turned her head and rested the side of her head against his chest, her face turned in towards his. And maybe Steve was being too sappy, but he couldn't help but notice how naturally they fit together, how well they moved and adjusted to each other's slow movements. Even though he hadn't had any doubt in his mind before, he knew she was the right partner.

Slowly, they danced together, tucked into each other and lost in a world that belonged only to them and the music. If Steve closed his eyes, he could imagine that he was back in the 1940s with the best woman in the world. He still wasn't sure if what he was doing was right, but Emma simply held onto him and danced, her body moving with his.

"Hey, Steve?" Emma said.

"Mmm?" Steve asked. She kept her face against his chest still, but she tilted her head up to look at him.

"We're dancing," she quietly murmured.

"Yes, we are," Steve replied, and he put his cheek against the top of her head.

Finally, the song ended, and they went back to their seat as a fast-paced song got everyone back to jitterbugging out on the dance floor. Emma was about to sit back down in her seat when an elderly couple—much older than John—approached the two of them.

"Cap?" the man asked quietly. Steve paused and looked over his shoulder at the man.

"Sir," he greeted authoritatively. The man stared in awe at the blond Super Soldier, and then he lifted his hand in a salute. Steve blinked in surprise, and then he swallowed, seemingly overcome with emotion. Drawing himself up straight, he saluted the elderly man back. As Steve lowered his hand, the man lowered his hand, too, his eyes still pinned to the young man.

"Welcome back," the elderly man said.

"Thank you," Steve sincerely replied. The man shook his head fervently and smiled, looping his arm with his wife's.

"Thank _you_," he said, and then he was gone. Steve stared after the man and continued to blink with wide-eyed surprise. Then he frowned a little bit and looked down at the table, sinking down into his seat.

"You ok, baby?" Emma asked. Slowly, Steve nodded, and then he looked over at her with a perplexed look on his face and a distant look in his light blue eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm ok," he answered in a slightly absent voice. "Tonight's just been a bit of a blast from the past so far."

"Did you know that guy?" Emma asked. Steve shrugged and shook his head helplessly at the same time.

"Maybe?" he replied. "I don't know. He looked at me like he knew me."

"Maybe he did," Emma suggested. "But then again, you were a celebrity even in your time period, so it's kind of given that he _did _know you."

Steve nodded, but he didn't say anything else about it. Sometimes things couldn't be expressed in words.

* * *

Steve and Emma spent the rest of the night dancing to the slow dances and watching everyone else. They decided that tonight was the night to take it slow and watch how everyone else moved to the music, but they also decided that they'd come back and get their nerve up to dance to the fast songs since those were the ones that really put Emma in the mood to dance.

Something that was nice about the evening was that few people bothered them over who they were. Mainly, the other dancers had just stared, and a few had come over and said kind things to the couple, but other than that, everyone had left the two alone. By the time the evening was over, Emma was thoroughly relaxed and energized.

She climbed into the passenger's side of her car and glanced over at Steve as he buckled himself into the driver's seat. "So I hope you're not too tired from all that dancing we did."

"Now why would you say that?" Steve asked, even though it was obvious from his tone that he was teasing her.

"I've been able to restrain myself from ripping that uniform off of you, but when we get back home, I won't be able to," Emma returned in a casual voice. Steve glanced over at her with darkened eyes, and she could see his Adam's apple move as he swallowed.

"Trust me, it's been a challenge to keep my hands off you when we weren't dancing," he admitted.

"The quicker we get home, the quicker we can get these clothes off each other," Emma said innocently. Steve immediately put the car into Reverse.

* * *

As soon as the door to their apartment was shut, Emma started unbuttoning Steve's uniform as fast as she could. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons, and she couldn't help grinning, snickering at her own slips. While she was completing her task, she felt Steve's hands slide behind her and tug her zipper down, effectively freeing her from her dress.

"Not fair," she breathlessly said out loud as she stepped out of the dress that was now sliding off her shoulders. She had his uniform jacket unbuttoned, and she started in on his shirt. Suddenly, Steve stopped her and scooped her up in his arms, walking back to the bedroom with her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, and his pants were uncomfortably tight as his erection begged to be freed, but he wanted to get Emma undressed completely before he got fully undressed, too.

He kissed the bare skin of her chest, the gentle slopes of her breasts as he crossed into the bedroom. She smelled so good, and he knew that she tasted even better. Carefully, he laid her down on the bed, hooking his thumbs into the sides of her tights and pulling them down as she kicked her shoes off to help him along. She was lying in her bra and underwear, and she silently thanked herself for thinking ahead and putting on a sexy set of bra and underwear for the occasion.

She swallowed as she lay on her back, watching as Steve finished removing his shirt. All he was wearing now was his uniform pants and his boxers underneath, and she wanted them gone. Swiftly, Steve unbuttoned his pants and slid them off; unable to help herself, her grey-green eyes flicked down to his prominent erection, and she lifted her eyebrows in impressed anticipation.

"Come here," she said throatily, her breath coming out shallowly now. Steve hadn't even touched her, and she was already having this reaction to him, she thought with a smirk. Eagerly obeying orders, he climbed on top of her and went to kiss her, but before he could, she pushed lightly on his shoulder and moved so that he was beneath her, and she was straddling his hips. Without wasting a second, she leaned forward and pressed her red lips to that spot on his neck right below his ear that he loved.

Steve's throat tightened, and he let out a tense, quiet moan at the sensation of it. Emma smiled and moved farther south, her lips kissing one spot and then another and then another and another as she trailed down across his torso. Her red lipstick left a map of her mouth's path behind her, and when Steve looked down at her, he smiled to see the red markings on his skin.

"I love your body," she murmured against his ribs as she reached down and grasped him through his boxers. Steve moaned again, his gorgeous blue eyes closing. Her fingers wrapped around his length, and she rubbed her hand over him through the fabric.

"Please," he whispered. He kept his eyes closed as Emma tucked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulled down. He lifted his hips to help her remove them fully and felt them completely leave his body. He breathed deeply at the feel of her hand on him, and he was about to coax her to come back up to kiss him when he felt her mouth envelop him. A controlled, strangled sound released from the back of Steve's throat, his whole body jerking. He opened his blue eyes and stared in a mixture of shock and awe at Emma as she swirled her tongue around him. Steve's chest rose and sank with heavy breaths as he tried to control himself. Her mouth felt like heaven, hot and wet with her tongue moving in tempting, tantalizing circles. Suddenly, he put his hand gently on her shoulder and started to sit up.

"Emma…no," he gasped. When she heard him say her name and the one word to stop, she immediately stopped and pulled back with a surprised look on her face.

"Steve?" she asked, confused.

"I don't want to do that to you." His voice was deep and husky against her shoulder. As much of a modern man as he could be, some of his old-fashioned morals still existed. His hands wrapped around her back and traced over her skin. "I want _you_."

Emma looked down at Steve, watching him readjust himself so that he was seated beneath her and could pull her onto his lap, her knees falling on either side of his hips. She felt her bra snap open in the back, and she sighed as Steve's hands moved to her shoulders to pull the straps down and away. Unable to ignore the hard press of Steve's erection between her legs, she moved her hips, grinding against him.

Steve moved his lips down to her breast and closed them around one of her nipples. His tongue flicked lightly over the sensitive skin, and she gasped out loud. One thing she could say about Steve was that he was definitely very talented where his mouth was concerned—that hadn't taken much learning at all. He'd picked up on all things to do with his mouth very quickly, something that hadn't bothered Emma at all.

The sensations began to overwhelm her, and suddenly, she knew she couldn't stand it anymore. She quickly pulled herself away from him, leaving him looking up at her with a torn, starved look on his face, and she pushed her underwear down and onto the floor. Within seconds, she was back on his lap and pressing her entire naked body snugly against his. Some of the red lipstick she'd left against his torso was rubbing off on her skin, but she didn't mind.

Emma held herself over the tip of his length and looked down at his face. He tilted his head back and looked up at her, his blue eyes darting back and forth between her eyes. His breath coming in shallow, impatient pants, desperate for her to lower herself over him. And so she readied herself, and she did. Slowly, she sank down onto him, allowing him to fill her. Her head tipped back, and she closed her eyes.

"Jesus," she sighed out when he was fully inside her. She held herself still so that her body could get used to his size, to the stretch that came with first entering her. She opened her eyes and looked at Steve's face. His own blue eyes were closed, the expression on his sharp, angular features almost pained. "Are you ok?"

Steve's eyes snapped open. "Yeah." He nodded. His voice sounded forced, but then he smiled at her. "Yeah, I'm ok. You just feel so good. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. I'm just fine," Emma said, and she lowered her mouth to his to kiss him. Passionately, she ran her hands through his hair and tugged just enough to make him moan throatily against her lips. She felt him twitch inside her, and then she began to move. Slowly, she lifted herself and sank down on him over and over again.

"Oh, Emma," Steve groaned. His hands pressed her against him as she undulated her hips over him. She kissed him with everything she had—she poured her love, her fears, her hope, and her pain into her kiss. His body was so tight and firm against hers, and he was so thick and heavy between her legs. Each time she lowered herself down, she could feel her body open up to him little by little and allow him to go deeper. She wrapped her arms around his upper shoulders, and he followed suit by wrapping his around her small, narrow waist, holding her together as she held him to her.

Her pulse picked up as her body moved a little quicker. She had never needed him more than she did then, and it hit her like a ton of bricks. Completely and thoroughly overwhelmed, she clutched him to her, desperately clinging to him as her hips arched and rolled with him inside her. Steve seemed to sense her desperation, and he tightened his hold on her as he buried his face against her collarbone. His hands slid lower to grab her hips, and he clutched her hipbones tightly in his large, calloused palms as she pressed down on him and slowly, languidly circled her hips over and over.

"Steve," she whispered against his hair. And at her words, something inside him snapped. Fluidly, Steve kept one arm wrapped around her waist to hold her place, and he flipped them so she was lying on her back beneath him, and he was above her. Emma stared up at him with large, piercing eyes, and he stared back down at her, his hips pressed forward so that he was completely sheathed inside her body. She remembered back before he'd started wearing his hair shorter how his longer bangs had fallen into his face during sex, and she'd loved seeing the long strands fall forward into his eyes. Now that his hair was shorter, there was never any risk of that happening, and sometimes she found herself missing it.

Steve closed his eyes and let out a deep breath as he pulled his hips back and then pushed them forward again. Feeling him slide deep inside her, Emma sighed in pleasure, nearly closing her eyes. She looked up at Steve and watched his face as he moved. His eyebrows were furrowed tightly together, and he looked as though he were straining to hold back. Lifting her hands, she placed them on the sides of his face and forced him to look at her, his blue eyes clouded with a combination of pleasure and effort.

"Let go, Steve," she whispered. Caution passed over the Super Soldier's face, and he went to respond, but she pulled his head down to kiss her deeply, all the while his hips rolling into her. "Let go."

When she allowed him to pull back, he looked as if he didn't understand what she was saying, but she knew he did by the way his hips began to move quicker and more forcefully. His thrusts began to pick up pace, his face still cautious and almost nervous, but Emma didn't regret giving him permission to do so. She needed him to do this—she needed him to let go and lose himself in her. That burning, fiery pleasure was beginning to build inside her at an alarmingly quick rate as Steve's body pounded into hers.

"Ah, God," he groaned, his words nearly intelligible. He lowered his head down to her shoulder, and when she heard his quiet, gentle grunts in her ear, she ran her fingernails down his back, shivering with pleasure. With every rough thrust, he was taking her higher and higher within herself. He turned his face in towards her and pressed his lips to her neck, and that was when Emma lost it. She wrapped her legs tight around Steve's waist and tilted her hips back, her head falling to the side as every one of her senses exploded. Pleasure erupted from her center and spread out from where she and Steve were joined. Stars exploded behind her eyelids, a combustion of her body and his combining.

Steve shoved into her with one last, hard thrust as she climaxed, and he couldn't hold back any longer. The tightening of her muscles around him was too much, and with a hard shudder, he spilled into her. Emma looked at his face with barely focused eyes. His mouth was slightly parted, and his face was contorted with a pained expression at the strength of his orgasm. His back arched, and he cried out; a real, uninhibited call that embodied everything he felt inside him emotionally and physically for the woman beneath him.

Emma's body trembled underneath his, and she tried to gain control of herself. It was then that she realized her cheeks were wet. The intensity of her orgasm had brought her to tears, something that had never happened before. Weakly, Steve lowered his mouth and warmly kissed her. His lips were gentle and heated and loving, swollen and damp. He was sweet and soft, the way he usually was when making love to her. The impassioned frantic quality that had accompanied the fusion of their bodies had faded to a low, quiet burning.

They simply lay there, wrapped up in each other and they kissed as they slowly came back into themselves. Steve could've stayed there forever. He pulled back just enough to gaze down at her, looking at her messed up lipstick and gorgeous storm-filled eyes.

_Marry me_, he thought.

"I love you," he said, and he tucked his head down against her hair, nuzzling against her neck. "Past, present, and future."

* * *

"How's her morning sickness been?" Emma balanced the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she pulled out the final contents of the last cardboard box in the living room. She felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment as she looked into the now empty box. The damn thing had been sitting there untouched in the living room for several months now, but finally, she'd forced herself to unpack the last few items.

"It's still pretty bad from what Alex said. When was the last time you talked to him?" Lacey asked. Emma paused, holding the picture frame in her hand as she thought.

"Several days ago, I think," she said. "I don't know. Last one I talked to was Dave, and that was on Friday. Things seem to be going well with him and Cara, by the way."

"Yeah, they are! He finally brought her to Carroll-Gallagher family dinner last night," Lacey said, her tone full of excitement. "She seems really nice and smart. She's more talkative than Dave is, but I think that's a good contrast for him."

"Good," Emma said happily. "It's about time he met a nice, smart girl. Does she like his foreign films?"

"Believe it or not, she does."

"Wow, they might as well get married now."

"Speaking of weddings, did Alex or Laura tell you what day they chose for the ceremony?"

"No. What day?"

"June 23. That way Laura won't be too round for her dress. She's a little self-conscious about it."

"That makes sense. She called me Saturday afternoon and asked me to be a bridesmaid, so I'm excited." Emma walked around with the picture in her hand as she tried to find a place to put it. She'd forgotten that she'd even had this picture until she'd seen it at the bottom of the box; back in New York, she'd kept it tucked away in a drawer under her bookshelves, and so she'd completely forgotten that she had it until now.

"That's great. I'm so happy he's finally marrying her. She's always been so good for him," Lacey said.

"Yeah, she's probably the reason he isn't more wild," Emma replied. Lacey laughed wholeheartedly.

"You are so right," she said. "And now that you're going to be a bridesmaid, hopefully that means you'll be coming back up here more often to help with wedding stuff."

"I'd like to if I can," Emma said. "Steve's been assigned a lot more missions recently, so if that keeps up, I think I should be able to. Shit, hopefully Grace doesn't start planning her wedding, too, because I'm already going to be a bridesmaid for her."

"She's been engaged to Tony Stark for a while, hasn't she?" Lacey asked.

"Yeah, I think maybe a year and a half now? They got engaged sometime in between the Battle of New York and the whole Mandarin incident," Emma replied. "Hey, what do you want Alex and Laura to have? Like, a boy or a girl?"

"Girl," Lacey answered immediately. "We have so many boys in this family.

Emma laughed and nodded, even though Lacey couldn't see her. "I'm definitely on board with that. It'd be nice to have some more girls around. Aunt Lacey, in my spare time when Steve's gone, I play videogames. That's how much being raised with three boys has affected me."

"Yeah, we need more females," Lacey agreed. "Speaking of Steve, what's he up to? How is he?"

"He's good. He's on his way home from HQ right now, so he should be back any minute. Believe it or not, he's convinced me to start getting up early and exercising with him," Emma said.

"Wait, seriously?" Lacey asked, her voice stunned.

"Yep. I've been trying to get my leg back to normal, and he suggested I run with him in the mornings," Emma replied. "I don't think I'm going to run, but I think I'll do like, some yoga in the park or something like that."

"Wow. I can't believe you'd get up earlier than you have to," Lacey said honestly. Emma laughed.

"I know. Trust me, I can't believe he managed to talk me into it, either," she said. "But hey, I'll let you go. I'm still unpacking the last box we have, and then we'll be 100% moved in."

"Ok, I'll talk to you later, sweetheart. I love you!"

"Love you, too, Aunt Lacey. Bye." Emma pulled her phone away from her face and hit the End button to end the call. She hummed along to Michael Buble playing on the iHome in the kitchen as she walked around to find a good place to put the picture in her hands. She slid her phone into the front pocket of her scrubs and glanced at one of the bookshelves. With a little rearrangement, it would probably look good there.

Crossing towards the shelves, she pushed a few to the side and set the picture up squarely facing out front. The picture was of her and her three cousins shortly after she'd gone to live with them and Lacey and Mason. They'd taken a trip to Hershey Park in Pennsylvania, and it'd been the first time Emma had really smiled in a long time. She stepped back and looked at the picture, folding her arms over her chest as she remembered how much fun she'd had that day. Actually, now that she thought about it, that day was probably the day that she'd really felt a part of Lacey and Mason's family of boys.

Suddenly, she heard her music in the kitchen stop, and she paused. She was about to turn to go check it out when she heard "Dream a Little Dream of Me" fill the room. Smiling, she stood still and waited for Steve to come in. Sure enough, just a few seconds later, he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Hey," she said back. "How was your day?"

"It was ok. Natasha said to tell you hello," he replied, starting to sway back and forth to the music. "You're still in your scrubs."

"Yeah, I finished unpacking that last box as soon as I got home from work. I knew if I went to change first, I'd never get it done," Emma said. She turned her head back as much as she could to look at him. "Steve, I think we're dancing."

"Yeah?" Steve let her pull away long enough to turn around to face him and place one hand on his shoulder and the other in his hand.

"Yeah," she answered, looking up at him with soft, calm eyes.

"How's my best girl?" he asked quietly. Emma thought back to when a similar moment like this had happened just a couple of months ago; in fact, it'd been the night he'd told her about Peggy Carter, and their relationship had temporarily crumbled.

"I'm good," she answered. "I'm going to miss you when you leave tomorrow."

"I'll miss you, too. I'll count the minutes until I'm back," Steve said with a grin. His face sobered slightly. "How are your bruises?"

"Steve, they're fine," she said in a dull voice. "Don't you dare apologize for them again."

"But—"

"These bruises were well worth it. Trust me. Besides, I can't even feel them. They look way worse than they actually are," she interrupted him. Steve had been feeling horribly guilty after waking up on Sunday morning and seeing purple bruises on her hipbones from where he'd grabbed her the night before during sex. Ever the gentleman, he'd been apologizing nonstop since then with that look on his face that reminded Emma of a guilty little puppy. She wrinkled her nose up at him and tilted her head towards the kitchen. "I picked up some food from the bakery on the way home."

"Perfect." Steve's face slowly lit up, his guilty conscience melting away the tiniest bit. "Say, want to crack open that bottle of wine we bought right when we moved in to celebrate when we finally unpacked?"

"Yes! I totally forgot we had that. I'm going to go change before dinner first, though. I have gross stuff on me that shouldn't get mixed with food."

"Oh, and you didn't tell me before you started dancing with me and got it on me?" Steve asked, and she gave him an innocent smile as she turned towards the bedroom to go change. As Steve watched her ponytail disappear down the hall, he suddenly thought back to his dream. He'd been unable to shake it since he'd woken up in a panic with the image of Emma dead imprinted across the backs of his eyelids.

Swallowing, he ran a hand through his hair and crossed into the kitchen to see what Emma had gotten them to eat for the evening. But even as he did so, he couldn't stop thinking about that damn dream. He breathed in and out slowly and tried to clear his mind, thinking about how Emma always talked about doing "yoga breathing" whenever she got stressed or worked up. So he did his own version of "yoga breathing" and thought about anything but his dream. He thought about SHIELD, he thought about the mystery substance Emma's scrubs had had on them that might have transferred onto his shirt, he thought about anything and everything.

"I'll get the coffee going," Emma announced as she crossed back into the kitchen. He looked behind him and smiled when he saw her wearing one of his t-shirts over leggings. This was a usual routine for them now, one that he looked forward to every night. He would get the food taken care of, and Emma would start the coffee. It was the little familiar things like this that he found comfort in.

Little did he know that in just a few weeks' time, the world that he and Emma knew and shared together would be changed forever.


End file.
